Finding a Cure
by gigixxjadyn
Summary: The War has been fought, and won by the Light. Life is slowly returning to normal. Hermione and Draco are sent by St. Mungo's to cure a fatal hex. What's in store for them? Terrible at writing summaries. ;P DHr, R&R!
1. Prologue

**I've decided to attempt a Draco/Hermione full-length fic. (: I'm thinking around 12-15 chapters, possibly more. This takes place after the Deathly Hallows, minus the epilogue which did not exist. What epilogue? I think that's it. Well? Get to it! Read! (And hopefully enjoy!)**

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

Hermione Granger brushed back a wisp of auburn hair as she sat alone in a small meeting room at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Her soft facial features had long lost the innocence of childhood but retained the intelligent curiosity and determination that made her Hermione. The once bushy mass on her head had settled to curly waves of chestnut that fell to her middle back, complimenting her golden-flecked hazel eyes. Her petite frame boasted no particularly eye-catching features but Hermione Granger had nonetheless, grown up to be quite a woman.

Over two years ago, the epitome of evil in the Wizarding World, Voldemort and his Death Eaters, had finally been defeated by Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived. Lives were destroyed, lost, and ruined but life continued. Harry Potter had been nominated for Minister of Magic numerous times but after so much publicity his whole life, had turned down the job and instead gone to be a professional Quidditch player (Seeker, of course) and was earning thousands. He had been steadily dating Ginny Weasley for almost two years. Hermione kept in touch with both of her best friends and knew that any day now they would probably announce an engagement. Ron Weasley, as well as fellow Gryffindors Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, had gotten a job at the Department of Magical Games and Sports in the Ministry and he and Hermione had stopped dating, but remained friends. She knew that he was dating another girl in his department, and was very happy for him, and relieved of the fact that she did not have to discuss Quidditch with him. Neville Longbottom was assisting Professor Sprout and hoped to teach Herbology one day. Luna took over The Quibbler and with her father, the magazine was as peculiar as always. For the most part, everyone had picked up the pieces of their lives, and moved on.

After all that had happened, Hermione felt that resuming her education had seemed so trivial, but with the part that she'd played in Voldemort's defeat, her excellent academic record, and her pure intellectual brilliance, she'd been hired as a Healer for St. Mungo's after two years of extensive training. The War had been cruel to the Wizarding World and the hospital was still constantly being flooded with patients. Some of the curses and hexes had lay dormant for a few years and then reappeared with excruciating and disastrous results. She'd been assigned to work with a partner, whom she now awaited, to find a cure for a particular hex.

As she looked out the window and watched the bustling witches and wizards of London who were working so hard to get their lives back to normal, her attention was diverted to the door opening. Her mouth formed a small 'o' as none other than Draco Malfoy walked in, his near white-blonde hair falling carelessly to his eyes, swirling silver pools that retained an imperturbable sangfroid. He too, had lost his childlike haughtiness, yet he still moved with an air of confidence and superiority, every action made with an aristocratic grace. Like his parents and ancestors, his presence was commanding and authoritative, but nonchalant and neutral as well. During the War, he had disappeared into hiding after his failed murder of Albus Dumbledore. Due to the fact that besides bearing the mark of the Death Eaters, he had not carried out any punishable tasks of Voldemort, he remained innocent, but watched by the somewhat reformed Ministry. He, however, had trained to work in the Potions Lab of St. Mungo's, and was hired after a series of tests and examination of his academic records. Upon noting Hermione in the room, he concealed his surprise better, but remained silent, testing the waters and waiting for her reaction first.

Each observed the other, noting the changes. Icy silver depths met fiery hazel ones, and the gaze was held for what seemed like hours. The hazel eyes questioned, the silver pools examined. Through eye contact only, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy portrayed the most calm and civilized conversation they'd ever had in their six years of having contact with the other. Finally, the gaze was broken.

"Granger," he spoke, with a collected and impartial voice and a small nod of his head.

"Malfoy," she replied, tilting her head slightly to the side, but otherwise showing no objection or animosity. She reached over and opened a book that had been lying next to her, and began to read as they waited for one of the top healers to come in and provide further instruction. He pulled out a chair and sat down. An unspoken truce had been agreed to. Putting aside past differences, they just wanted to get through whatever these next few weeks should prove to be with as little extra trouble as possible. A sort of peace settled.

**Thoughts? Comments? _Please please please review!!_**

**Lurves- Jadyn**


	2. Floor cleaning

**Yay, it's the first chapter! Longer than the prologue, too. ; ) **

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

Within a few moments, a man presumably in his late 40s walked in, dressed in the typical Healer attire. He had dark brown hair that had been neatly cut and grey hairs showing already. Hermione noted that his eyes were a very dark emerald and they exuded weariness but enthusiasm as well. He was of medium height and even now, was a good-looking bloke. Malfoy observed that he seemed quite pleasant but must have spent much of his time playing 'leader'.

"Hello there, I'm Healer Davis; you must be Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy! Ah, I see you two have gotten reacquainted nicely! I was worried from what I heard of your past, erm, relations that there would be a few curses flying and you would be the ones in need of healing!" he spoke in a friendly voice. Hermione smiled, liking the lighthearted and friendly Healer; Malfoy had his smirk in place, slightly annoyed by the happiness of this man.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir," Hermione dutifully replied as they shook hands. Malfoy nodded, and he shook hands with the Healer next.

"Well, now that we've gotten pass the greetings, it is from my understanding that the two of you are to research and attempt to find a cure for the…" Healer Davis paused to peer through numerous files and the large book that he had tucked under his arm. He frowned upon reading the correct papers. "The Praefocom Hex," he murmured. Both Malfoy and Hermione frowned.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Malfoy asked, raising a brow.

"The Praefocom Hex," Healer Davis said clearly, looking back at them. "As of now, all we know is that it takes about a year, more or less, to fully kill its victim."

"But Mr. Davis, sir, the War ended two years ago," spoke Hermione, "how…"

"Are you _daft_, Granger? It must have been a newly recovered curse used during the Death Eater Rebellion. About ten months ago. For three days…" Malfoy began, only to be interrupted.

"It was as if the war had started all over again," finished Hermione, her eyes slight damp and distant. Then she snapped out of her trance; Malfoy sent her a look.

"Correct, and so far we have a noted five deaths of a similar fashion that correlate to this book, but nine other cases that have been reported with close symptoms," he handed over a large volume with yellowed pages that were torn in places, with smeared ink, "it is the only book in St. Mungo's library with any reference to the Praefocom Hex." Hermione had already reached for the book, titled _Dark Curses: Their History and Efffects_, and flipped to the bookmarked page. Malfoy, not to be left out, quickly walked over to read as well.

_Not much is known of the fatal curse known as the Praefocom Hex. From its Latin roots, 'praefoco' means to choke, or suffocate. Created by Michal Dolohov, its only recorded uses were during the reign of Grindelwald (see pp846). Those who have witnessed the hex in action say that it is slow in acting but always deadly. It kills off the cursed victim by slowly filling their lungs with sticky bile and blood until the victim suffocates, or chokes from the excess bile that has filled their lungs. The exact intonation and incantation of the curse is unknown, as is a cure._

They finished reading at about the same time. Hermione inhaled sharply in horror, and even Malfoy, who'd seen his fair share of Dark Magic, shuddered slightly. They looked back up at Healer Davis, who had lost his cheerful manner and now gazed at them sharply and solemnly. "We have no way of knowing how many more have been affected by this, as we do not know if during contact, the curse has any immediate affects. Of course, the St. Mungo's library is limited but with the number of former Death Eaters that had attacked and the number of deaths in the Rebellion…"

"Not even a year has passed so there could be vast numbers of those affected could that haven't shown drastic life-threatening symptoms yet, and thus haven't gotten a check-up. And a cure should be developed as soon as possible seeing as how nearly all afflictions can be cured with a higher rate of survival in the early stages," finished Hermione. Healer Davis allowed a small smile to grace his face.

"Correct Miss Granger."

"A whole lot you've changed these two years, _Miss_ _Granger_," muttered Malfoy, so that only Hermione could hear. She glared a dagger or three at him. A subtle cough was heard.

"So, now that you have the essentials, can I entrust the two of you to this task on behalf of St. Mungo's?" inquired Healer Davis, even though everyone in the room knew the answer already.

"You may do just that," replied Malfoy, and Hermione nodded. He gave them one last encouraging smile and made to leave the room when Hermione walked up to him and stopped him. In a hushed tone, she began to speak,

"I'm so sorry for asking about this, and I assure you that I would gladly do this for free, seeing as how there has been so much hurt and damage to the Wizarding World and for me to affect the lives of maybe just three people would make me feel so much better and like I'm actually helping but will we be paid for this?" Hermione spoke in a hurried breath. Healer Davis was about to respond when she continued.

"I really really hope you don't think any less of me, sir, but I have dues to my apartment that I must pay and the cost of living…" she continued, until she was interrupted by both men. Healer Davis gestured for Malfoy to speak first.

"Pretend she never said anything, sir; seeing as how we must devote a substantial amount of time to get this done in the earliest time possible, Gra- _Miss_ Granger will be staying with me, and you both have my word that it will be for singularly honorable purposes," finished Malfoy, with an almost bored quality to his tone. Hermione turned a brilliant shade of crimson that could rival Ron Weasley and noted a bit of exasperation in Malfoy's stormy eyes, and humor in the Healer's green ones.

"Excellent!" proclaimed Healer Davis, as his smile grew just a bit from watching the pair, "All you need to do is check in with me once every other week on your progress. I wish you all the best of luck and I know that I can expect results from the two of you! Not every starting employee at St. Mungo's gets a research case for one of the top five magical medical mysteries!" he then nodded in acknowledgement and quickly strode out of the meeting room to his other duties. Malfoy smirked, of course he was good enough, and hell, he should get the first "magical medical mystery" as the Healer put it. Putting aside his small boost of ego, he felt eyes on him, and looked at Hermione, who was still red from embarrassment, but now had worry flickering in her hazel eyes.

"I cannot believe how you humiliated me just then Malfoy!" she huffed.

"Granger, you were the one that…"

"And now we have been entrusted to one of the most important cases in St. Mungo's and I have no experience or credentials to back me up should I fail! What if we can't find anything? What if all knowledge of the curse died with that Michal Dolohov? What if this is a total disaster? What…"

"Shut _up_, Granger. First of all, _you_ were the one that brought up financial aid. Second of all, _we_ will not fail because _I_ do not _fail_. Third of all…"

"Cocky as ever Malfoy," Hermione interrupted, managing a tiny smile.

"Yes, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me," Hermione's smile was gone, "The knowledge is obviously still somewhere if we just read a book published after the late Dolohov's death. And finally, this will not be a total disaster because I am a genius…" Hermione rolled her eyes and a corner of her mouth lifted slightly.

"And even though you have no composure of self-control and you ramble nonsensically when worried, you're still bright enough." Hermione truly smiled at this. Of course Malfoy couldn't directly compliment her. No, he had to first praise himself, then insult her, then give her a half-arsed attempt at a compliment. Malfoy watched as Hermione smiled. He shook his head then abruptly headed for the door.

"Let's go Granger, today would be preferable in your oh-so-busy schedule of work, worry, work, work, worry."

"How do you know I'm going with you? I never agreed to your ridiculous proposal!" she spoke defiantly.

"Do you need to hear my perfectly well-thought out and logical reasons once more? Did they not sink in the first time?" he asked unenthusiastically, "push your pride away for just a moment and let's _go_."

"Says you! Mr. I'm-the-king-of-arrogance-and-superiority-and-my-ego-is-unhealthily-large!"

"Hello there everybody. Why isn't the floor clean enough for me to walk on? You should feel honored by my presence. Wait no, that's _too_ clean. What should happen if I were to slip and fall? Of course, someone like me only moves with the utmost grace and superiority, so that would never happen but Merlin forbid that should ever happen or else part of my ego might crack off and then I'd only act as if I were the king as opposed to God!!" Hermione imitated, swaggering around the room and speaking in a low voice. Malfoy smiled for the first time that Hermione had ever remembered in ever knowing and seeing Malfoy. A genuine smile. She looked at him like a slack-jawed idiot, and then as soon as it was there, it disappeared and was replaced by an amused version of his trademark smirk.

"That's not bad, Granger. And you know I never knew that in your eyes I was so devilishly charming and moved with the 'utmost grace and superiority.' You know, God is my middle name. Plus, you're right, once we get to my estate, you can clean the floors first thing," he smirked in near glee at her infuriated reaction.

"You. Are. A. Conceited. Egotistical. Haughty. Stuck-up. Overconfident. First-class PRAT!!" she near shouted at him, then walked up and slapped him clear across the face, his pale skin already a shade of pink. His grey eyes became cloudier, and with a strong grip on her arm, he side-apparated them to his estate without a further word from either of them.

**Hope you enjoyed! Please review!**

**Till later,**

**Jadyn**


	3. Cross dressing

**An extra long chapter for you all! Sorry for not posting for like, a month. School has started again... (ack, tests and homework and no sleep!! XP )** **Been busy but I'll try to keep the time in between chapters no longer than a month. Four day weekend starts today though. -cheers- I'll stop now so you can read; hope you enjoy!**

_Disclaimer: Take a wild guess._

Hermione tried in vain to release herself from Malfoy's hold but when she realized they were to apparate, splinching did not exactly appeal to her. They landed in front of a large estate that was, to say the least, breathtaking. Malfoy had already let go of Hermione's arm and began to walk to the sizable house. His house looked old, but exquisite. There was a large dark forest to the right side and the sound of running water could be heard. It radiated elegance and aristocracy, but was not as overwhelmingly large as Malfoy Manor. Malfoy, upon realizing Hermione openly staring at his house, pulled her toward the door and she watched as he took out his wand and began muttering a few spells and waving his wand in complex motions. In about fifteen seconds, he had finished.

"The spells and charms on this door will only allow you and myself in now," he explained. Hermione stepped through the double entry doors and into the entry room. If anything, the inside of the building was even more impressive than the outside. It was decorated with a simple sophistication and one look at the curtains, furniture, and adornments let you know that this was no middle-class dwelling. However, Hermione noticed that the house lacked warmth and a homey feel. After a few minutes of openly gazing around the room, she turned to Malfoy as he cleared his throat.

"Welcome to my humble abode, Granger," he told her with a smirk. Just as she was about to open her mouth, he continued.

"Just bite your tongue for another minute or so. We are in the English countryside in Surrey, the entire estate belongs to me. No one else currently resides here. My mother has taken residence in one of our homes in France. My father, as you probably know, passed away shortly after the War," Hermione noticed that he seemed indifferent when saying all of this.

"And in conclusion, the forest that you see to the right does not belong to me. I would advise staying out of it. Now, would you like a tour? Or rather would you like to ask the million questions that I can tell are about to burst out of your mouth?" he finished with an amused smirk at her narrowed eyes.

"No Malfoy, I would absolutely _love_ that tour," she spoke sweetly, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Follow me Granger," he said simply. Besides the entry room, there was a living room, dining room, family room, an office, a study that had a magnificent looking regal owl perched on a stand near the desk (His name was Orvidius, said Malfoy), six bedrooms, five bathrooms, a large kitchen, and a small library. Each was decorated slightly differently but all were consistent in theme and most rooms had something in it with Slytherin colors. After the near hour-long tour, he finished off by leading Hermione to her room. It was decorated in shades of soft blue and had a king sized bed filled with fluffy soft pillows and a delightful down comforter. He watched in amusement as she spun in a circle around the room, completely forgetting herself. French doors led out to a small balcony and there was also a chaise, desk, nightstand, dresser, armoire, chest, and walk-in closet. As Hermione went to open the walk in closet, she found it filled with all sorts of dress robes in almost every color. It was obvious that some had never even been worn before and they ranged from casual to lavishly formal. Without even looking at where the robes had been purchased, she figured she'd probably never even heard of the stores anyways. The robes were made of the finest material and flowed through her fingers like liquid silk. The closet sparkled of magic and Hermione knew that the robes had all sorts of charms on them from stain protection to automatic size adjustments. She walked out of the closet dazedly to find Malfoy looking very satisfied.

"Oh my Merlin," she whispered, "whose robes are those?" Then, regaining her composure, she spoke again,

"I never knew you cross-dressed Malfoy."

"Oh I don't. Those are my Mother's. This used to be her room, in each one of our houses, she has a full wardrobe so she never has to pack clothes with her. She's about your size, slightly taller, but you can probably tell that they will automatically adjust to fit you as well." Granger looked shocked, he thought.

"Oh, but I could never wear those, I mean…"

"They're worth more than you would make in three lifetimes?" Malfoy suggested. A brief flash of hurt flashed across her face but she agreed nonetheless.

"Don't worry about it, there's so many you won't even get the chance to ruin seventy percent of them and they're charmed with lots of Merlin-knows-what kind of spells."

"Thanks Malfoy, makes me feel a lot better."

"I aim to please."

"But thanks though. Really," she said quietly. For a moment he seemed surprised but Hermione didn't catch it before he motioned for her to follow him again.

"My room is just down the hall, you may use whichever restroom you please, the one across from you is one of the largest, and now, shall we finish the tour by heading outside?" he asked her.

"Who knew you could be such a gentleman Malfoy?" Hermione smiled.

"I have _always_ been a gentleman to those I deem worthy," Malfoy replied. Hermione frowned at this but followed him outside. They passed two other doors that led outside but finally went through a pair by the kitchen to a large slightly elevated patio furnished with a table and chairs, as well as a fun-looking swing. Hermione gasped in admiration of the beautiful view from the patio that could be seen of the grounds and the forest. Walking down the steps of the patio, he gestured to the small gardens on either side and the small stream and pond in them. Malfoy then began walking across the vast expanse of land to a smaller building in the distance. Hermione walked a bit faster to keep up with his large strides and soon found that they had arrived at a small stable with a corral.

"The stables," Malfoy spoke, a teensy half-smile gracing his face. Hermione noticed Malfoy looking a bit more relaxed and heard neighing inside. Walking in, she inhaled the hay-horse-manure smell and noticed three horses that all eagerly stuck their heads out to greet Malfoy.

"Who knew prissy rich boy Malfoy was willing to get his million-galleon shoes dirty?" she finally spoke, although actually impressed that he had such a bond with the animals.

"Shut it, Granger. How many of your little friends can afford to even set foot in a respectable horse stable, let alone own one?" he sneered. Not wanting to argue and having to admit that horseback riding, racing, and equestrian jumping were not sports that the poor indulged in, she turned her attention back to the horses.

"What are their names?"

Malfoy gestured to the smallest one of the three, which really wasn't all that small. She was a beautiful near flawless dapple grey, with a white star on her forehead.

"She's Kalani. Hawaiian. The heavens. She's got fifty or more different moods, but is generally patient but indifferent. Loves me though." he smirked while Hermione rolled her eyes. However as he spoke gently to the horse, the wall of imperturbable coolness slightly melted away. Hermione raised an eyebrow and smiled a bit. Malfoy was such a complicated person, but this little action proved that he really was an actual human. He then pointed to the next horse, second largest of the three. It had a dark chocolate brown coat with a white stripe on its head and stockings.

"Another mare. Adrasteia. Her name is from Greek Mythology. Not inclined to run away. The gentlest of the three," he pet her behind the ears and gave her a little peck on the forehead. As soon as it disappeared, the wall of steel was once again in his eyes. Finally, he moved to the largest horse. Its coat was blacker than midnight and it could pass for a shadow. From the way it moved and acted, it reminded Hermione of Malfoy. It seemed to exude, "I'm superior to you and could kill you with one kick without even trying. I have a heart of stone and I'm not afraid to intimidate everyone else with my good looks and arrogant composure." Her eyes widened upon her subconscious acknowledgement of the fact that Malfoy had good looks.

"Quirinus. Stallion. Roman Mythology. Meaning unknown." Malfoy seemed to know that Quirinus could explain himself better than he could. Hermione watched as both Malfoy and Quirinus let down their guards for a moment as Malfoy stroked the horse. Soon after, Hermione and Malfoy exited the stable and headed back to the house, the tour complete.

As they entered the kitchen, Hermione noticed that a little house elf had run up to Malfoy. She frowned, not knowing that he kept any. But as she noticed its clean garment and eagerness to serve him, she decided that any SPEW talks could wait.

"Excuses me, Master Malfoy. Dinner is ready for you and the Miss, but I is wanting to know what you is liking for dessert!" it squeaked, a female by its voice.

"Oh, and this is Tibby, Granger," he gestured, "I have two elves total, the other is a male named Wilby." Hermione sighed in relief to know that at least Malfoy wasn't some slave elf driver.

"Granger will be staying here the next few weeks, you and Wilby are to treat her as you would me. You are to do as she asks," Malfoy said, in his commanding tone. Hermione was rather surprised that he trusted her enough not to sabotage and ruin his home with the help of the house elves. Maybe this Malfoy wasn't quite so bad. A complicated arsehole, yes, but just possibly tolerable. Her thoughts were interrupted by Tibby speaking.

"Should I calls her Mistress Granger?" she asked, peering up at them.

"Yes-" Malfoy began, but Hermione bent down to the house elf's eye-level, surprising Tibby.

"You may call me Hermione, Tibby," she said. Tibby's eyes widened and then she let out an excited squeak. Malfoy raised an eyebrow as he looked at Hermione in all her SPEW-like glory.

"Yes Miss Hermione! Tibby is very happy to be serving yous!"

"Now that you're done socializing with my house elf, let's eat." As they sat down at the table, there was an awkward silence where only silverware scraping plates could be heard. Both Hermione and Malfoy ate quickly and excused dessert, disappointing Tibby, who took their plates away. Just as Hermione felt that she would retire up to her room for the day, Malfoy spoke.

"We need a plan," he said simply.

"For…?"

"Granger. Just _try_ to think. Why are you even here in the first place? What is your job?"

"Oh," she blushed, "well, how about we go to the Ministry library tomorrow? We'll have to at least try to find more books about the Praefocom Hex first anyways. There must be something that we can get a lead from."

"I'm shocked. Goody Granger heads off to the library. Where the answers to _everything_ are," he drawled sarcastically. But Hermione, seeing that he made no further conversation to contradict her idea, knew that he agreed, and that their conversation had come to an end. Malfoy had moved to the adjoining room, looking dignified and composed even while plopped in a sofa.

"I'll be in my room Malfoy," she informed him. He seemed deep and thought and did not act as if he'd heard her, but the slight nod of his head told her otherwise. Sighing, Hermione walked up the spiral staircase and into her room. Upon opening the door, the lights went on, and Hermione was surprised that Malfoy used muggle lighting in his house. Malfoy. Surprise. That seemed to be happening a lot today. She brushed her teeth and took a quick shower before transfiguring her outfit into a tank top and pajama pants and jumping into the big bed. Then, she gave her thoughts free reign.

Hermione thought about how excited she'd been to learn about getting to do worthwhile research to help possibly save lives. It was something that seemed so completely utterly perfect. She'd hoped that her partner would be tolerable, but then Malfoy. He had sauntered into the room as king of the world, and she'd been surprised to say the least. But after carefully analyzing it like Hermione Granger does, she knew that he was smart, for during their school days, the two of them had always been even competitors for arguing. She also figured that he could get work done, since he'd placed a close second after her, and she knew Potions was his forte. So even though when she first saw Malfoy, it was like "kill me now!" she realized that she would not have wanted any of her other school mates for a partner on something this vast. This somewhat shocked her, but made sense in the end.

Then Healer Davis, she liked that guy, his manner reminded her of her father, had told them what they were to research, and Hermione had been aghast upon hearing how someone could develop such a horrible horrible thing and use it on other human beings. Did morals and conscience just leave when you became a Death Eater? She wondered if Lucius Malfoy had seen it or even used the Praefocom Hex. Bloody hell, did _Malfoy_ already know of it when Healer Davis handed over the old book? But Malfoy had shuddered just slightly, she remembered, when after reading. She had become a little flustered with him being so close, and remembered distinctly his masculine scent, a bit like the ocean, odd considering where they were, sharp and slightly herbal smelling. She had to admit it was a nice smell. But anyways, if he had shuddered, then either he had had experience with it, or it was disgusting even to him. She hoped that it was the second one, it would make more sense since if he had experience with it and knew how to cure it, all he would have to do is inform Healer Davis, heal the sick people, and get all the credit and money. She scoffed. As if he needed more. And no one would question how he knew, since there had been so many times Voldemort and his cronies had been at Malfoy Manor. And even if someone suspected, his collected composure seemed to never waver. But then again, during the recent war, the Praefocom Hex hadn't been used, since the similar deaths as described by the book had only been occurring recently. The War was two years ago, the Hex took less time than that. And she knew for sure that he wasn't part of the rebellion. There had been inquiries about his whereabouts and he'd been proved innocent of any Death Eater activity, but in her gut, she just _knew_. Hermione felt guilty for suspecting that he was the big bad Death Eater Malfoy.

She remembered the conversation they'd had with their eyes when he'd first walked in, and just as she had not wanted to go back their past relationship of constant fierce arguing, she could tell he felt the same. Their unspoken truce. She observed that he had matured a lot since his Death Eater wannabe days. What had happened to him since then? When did the realization of not wanting to be a spineless follower of Voldemort ensue? How much she didn't know about that man; how little everyone knew about Draco Malfoy!

Those thoughts aside, she turned pink upon remembering her utter humiliation when she confronted Healer Davis about her paycheck. Then Malfoy had to go and be all Good Samaritan and even _further_ mortify her! Her essential "boss" had then _laughed_ at her! Laughed! Ok, good-natured smile, but the point! Malfoy's reasoning made sense though, she reluctantly admitted. They wanted to get this done as soon as possible and living together would make things easier.

Had he done it for that purpose only? Or was he actually doing it out of the goodness of his heart? If "Malfoy" and "goodness of his heart" were meant in reference to each other and said to her this morning, she would've never believed it. But then she'd seen the way he'd acted with the horses, and that his house elves were not like the ones that Lucius Malfoy had kept, dirty, terrified, and quivering. He'd given her the authority to order both elves! _And_ all the beautiful robes that he'd allowed her to wear. But then he'd been just as rude and arrogant as always to her. Then when she mentioned him being a gentleman on the house tour, he'd mentioned her worthiness. What did that mean? He was somewhat respectable so did that mean he thought that she was somewhat worthy? He'd obviously thought her worthless his school days since respect had been a lost concept between them then. Dinner had been thoroughly awkward, but Hermione remembered that tomorrow they were to head to the huge Ministry library. Books and reading had always provided an escape for her. She recalled how deep in thought he'd been earlier and wondered what had been on his mind.

-----

Draco Malfoy heard Granger say something then walk out of the room after their short conversation. He nodded to acknowledge whatever she had said and returned to his thoughts. This morning he walked into the meeting room knowing that he was to work on some assignment researching a curse with effects that had just started to take place. He knew that he had a partner as well. He did _not_ know, however, that Goody Granger was to be said partner, but after he thought about it, Granger was smart, he could give her that, and she probably researched for fun, so she would be a good partner, he supposed.

Draco remembered the blatant surprise that had registered on her face when he strolled into the room. They had observed each other and found that neither wanted the furious arguments of their past and agreed to judge only from the present. Draco was surprised that all of this could be portrayed through their eyes only, but then again, Granger was incredibly easy to read. She had changed quite a bit from what he remembered; she was fairly pretty now, as he had to reluctantly admit. Then that happy Healer Daves, or Davies, or something like that had walked in and explained what they were to do and gave them the book. Draco was disgusted by the Praefocom Hex and was glad that he'd never seen someone suffer from it.

However he also remembered being briefly distracted by Granger in such close proximity to him, despite their obvious attempts to not touch. She smelled unique, fruity and flowery at the same time. He had no idea how to describe it. It was like how the fruit comes after the flower, but she kind of smelled like both at once. His eyes widened a bit. Stop thinking of how Granger smells! The corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he remembered how Granger had given him the full opportunity to make himself look even better and utterly humiliate her at the same time, her delicate face turning Weasley-red. That was probably the highlight of his month.

He wasn't really sure why he decided to just spontaneously offer her a free stay at his house though. Of course, when asked about it, his quick thinking rendered his reason of convenience perfectly logical. Then before she could bite his head off about it, he'd taken her here, and then spent the afternoon showing her around. She had been utterly amazed, of course, by his estate as a whole, and he smirked when he remembered her awe at his Mother's robes. Girls and clothing. Apparently even affects Granger. After gaping at everything he'd shown her, he brought her to see his horses. He remembered how much he'd looked like she did when his father had first taken him to Malfoy Manor's stables as a little boy. He'd been around horses all his life, and he could feel the confusion and surprise radiating off Granger as he let down the wall around him just a moment to speak to his horses. The wall had been there for as long as he could remember. He knew that Granger wanted to know more about him and was utterly confused by him. But his life story would come later, if at all, to Granger.

Wearied by the eventful day, he headed up to his room. Stopping by Granger's room, he peered in to notice her fast asleep on the bed, a tiny smile on her face, her hair splayed out in a highly unruly fashion like a big brown cloud. He smirked and closed the door before heading to his own room, quickly getting ready for bed, and falling asleep himself.

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**Hope you enjoyed! Please review!!**

**Lurves,**

**Jadyn**

**P.S. Open to any chapter titles for this one; couldn't think of one at all. Please send as a review cuz I can't access my email. :P**


	4. Elf hugging

**The longest chapter yet! And a three week wait, sorry. ): Hopefully I'll be able to get into the routine of school soon so that can mean more updates. Also assembled some lovely new furniture for my room this past week, so that kept me busy. I didn't get many reads last time. Hopefully this chapter will have more success, so get to it! -opens curtains-**

_Disclaimer: Not mine_

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**B**right rays of sun filtered through the pale blue curtains of Hermione Granger's bedroom. She buried her face into a big white pillow. Wait. She had _purple_ pillows in her apartment. Sitting up as quickly as she could while being half-asleep, she gazed around the room and fell back into the pillows with a sigh.

"Oh yeah, the project. Malfoy," she thought glumly. Then she panicked when she thought about how much work there was to be done. Quickly looking to the clock, she sighed with relief to find it only about 8:30. By now she felt fully awake and well rested, and flounced over to the walk-in closet to try on some of the gorgeous robes. Half an hour later, she had only tried on about five, but loved each one. Well, except for the sunny orange one. Who looks good in _sunny_ _orange_?!, she thought, crinkling her nose. Then she remembered she'd never had a chance to stop by her apartment and hadn't any casual Muggle attire, which she was quite fond of despite the huge plethora of exquisite robes. Deciding to take a quick trip there, she chose a dark reddish pink casual robe to wear for their trip to the Ministry library that day. With a wave of her wand, her bed was made, and after running a brush through her hair and tying it into a loose bun, she headed down to the kitchen. Seeing Malfoy's door still closed, she figured he was probably asleep and that she could be back before he knew. Grabbing some parchment and a quill from the desk, she scribbled a quick note.

_Malfoy,_

_Went to my apartment for a quick few minutes to grab some belongings. Should be back by 11am at the latest. You've been granted over an hour free of me, congratulations. _

_Hermione Granger_

She reread it and satisfied, put it on one of the kitchen counters. She heard a small voice behind her.

"Excuses me, but what would Mistress Granger be liking to eat for breakfast?" the other elf, Wilby, she thought, asked her politely. He was slightly older, it seemed, and larger than Tibby.

"You may call me Hermione, and scrambled eggs with just a bit of cheese, and waffles will be fine. And I shall get the syrup and milk myself so I can get to know this kitchen," she replied.

"Okay Miss Hermione! Wilby is happy to be serving for kind Miss! Just ask Wilby if yous need any help!" Hermione laughed at the eagerness of the house elf as he quickly began to cook her breakfast. Opening the refrigerator, she poured herself some milk and then began searching the pantry first, then the cabinets for the syrup. By the time she had found it, Wilby had breakfast on the table. She enjoyed the warm breakfast and finished quickly, sighing with contentment. Wilby had cleaned the kitchen so well that you would've never known anyone had been there if it weren't for the breakfast smell. There was no sound from above to indicate that Malfoy had awakened yet, so she went outside to the back patio to apparate, after failing to do so from the kitchen.

Pop! She arrived in her small apartment, which seemed so second-rate compared to Malfoy's lavish home. But it was cozy, and it was hers, so Hermione loved it. Her squash-faced ginger cat rubbed up against her legs and purred as she scratched Crookshanks behind the ears. He was getting old now, she thought, as she noticed quite a few white hairs on his coat. Considering bringing him with her, she decided against it, not knowing what Malfoy's reaction to her cat would be. She would ask him about it, though, she resolved. Refilling his food and water and changing his litter box, Hermione began to look around and put some things into a large duffel she'd found in the closet.

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The dark velvet curtains of Draco's Malfoy room did not allow the sunshine to awake him first thing in the morning. As a result, by the time he woke up, he noticed that it was about 10:15. He shot up, he had to be at work by 8:30!! But then he deflated onto his bed just as quickly.

"Right, he thought. The project with Granger." After moping in his bed for a few more minutes, he got up and prepared for the day. Passing by the mirror and smirking upon seeing his handsome reflection, he continued downstairs for some breakfast and smelled eggs and syrup upon reaching the kitchen. Granger must've already eaten, he thought.

"What would Master Malfoy be wanting to eat for breakfast?" piped Wilby.

"Sausage and pancakes with blueberries. Pumpkin juice."

"Yes sir! Is that alls, Master?" Malfoy nodded.

"Granger has already been down here, correct?" The little elf nodded.

"Mistress is very kind to Wilby and Tibby. She says we can calls her Miss Hermione!" Malfoy rolled his eyes and sat down, waiting for his breakfast, which arrived quickly. Finishing just as fast, he wondered where Granger had gotten to. Loudly hollering "Granger!" he checked the library first, then the family room, living room, his study, the office, the bathrooms, her bedroom, the other four bedrooms, and even his bedroom, he found that Granger had disappeared without a trace. Her bed had even been made. Beginning to get extremely frustrated, he hoped for her sake that she had not run away. He refused to waste time searching for her when she was the one who decided to leave. Even if he did decide to search for her, he didn't even know where she or any of her bloody friends lived or where her favorite place to go was. They had agreed that she would stay and they would leave for the Ministry library today, where the bloody fuck was she?! He strode quickly outside to the porch then jogged out to the stables, both were empty. Stupid bloody mental runaway Granger, he cursed.

Then another thought struck him. What if she hadn't left on purpose? Perhaps she'd been sitting on the patio, since no one besides the two of them could get in the house, when something had happened. Now slightly worried and furious at Granger for making him sweat first thing in the morning, he decided to go out the front door and wait for her, knowing any apparations couldn't take place in his house. His mind began to wander. Maybe someone had found out that they were trying to cure the hex and wanted to hinder their process. Capturing Granger would definitely accomplish that; if she didn't show up soon, he would have to spend days trying to find her. Then he realized how ridiculous that idea was since only as far as he knew, only Healers knew about their research and unless there was some Healer conspiracy against the good of mankind... Draco Malfoy shook his head. Granger better show up soon, he thought.

Hermione took one last look around her apartment and the very full duffel bag she clasped in her hands, and with one last pat to Crookshanks promising to either come get him soon or bring him with, she apparated back to Malfoy's estate on the back patio.

Malfoy heard the distinct pop! of apparating very faintly. Figuring Granger had preferred to explain herself where the scenery was nicest, he walked brusquely and ended up meeting her in the kitchen.

"Oh hel-" she began.

"So you decided that maybe running away wasn't the best idea _after_ all, did you, Granger?" he sneered, eyeing her duffel.

"I wasn't running away!" she retorted, slightly confused.

"Right, because leaving without explanation and pretending you were never here is just called relocation," he drawled sarcastically.

"Without explanation!?!"

"Yes, an explanation is a reason that a person will give to someone else for the purpose of informing," he spoke as if conversing with a three-year-old.

"I left a _note!_" she shot back, indignant at his babying.

"Did you pause to think a second in the hurried rush I'm sure you were in to get away to leave it where I would _find_ it?"

"I put it on the kitchen… Oh wait, I forgot that little rich boy Malfoy doesn't do anything for himself!" Then his anger made sense. He hadn't found the note!

"What's that supposed to mean oh elf-hugging Granger?"

"I wrote a _note_ and left it on the _counter_. The average person begins to prepare breakfast to eat first thing in the morning. Silly me forgot that you are waited on _hand and foot_ by your house elves! Come, let's go read the _explanation_ that I left for my _disappearance_!" She spun around to the counter and scanned all around, but alas, no note. Feeling a heat rise up her neck and into her cheeks, she spoke again.

"I'm _sure_ I left it here!" Malfoy looked immensely satisfied as he watched her search for her supposed note. Then she let out a little gasp and called for Wilby. Malfoy was confused.  
"Wilby," she began in a stern voice, "did you find a note when you cleared the kitchen after my breakfast?" He nodded enthusiastically.

"Wilby saw Miss Hermione's note and took it for safe-keeps to give to Master Malfoy when he comes to eating break… fast…" his eyes widened to double their size and he reached for a large glass bowl and began tearing up and sniffling.

"Wilby must punish self! Bad Wilby! Bad bad bad!! Wilby sees Master Malfoy is not happy but Wilby is forgetting the note!!" he tried to explain as he began hitting himself over the head with the bowl and crying.

"Compose you-" Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

"No, stop Wilby! Stop hurting yourself!" Hermione quickly grabbed the bowl out of his hands and spoke gently to him.

"Can you show me the note Wilby? It's ok, everyone forgets. Just don't let it happen again. If you can give me the note…" she didn't get a chance to finish.

"Oh! oh oh oh! Miss Hermione is so kind to Wilby! Wilby is a bad elf but Miss Hermione is a good Mistress! Wilby will get note right away for Miss Hermione!" he disappeared and reappeared within two seconds and handed over the parchment to Hermione, who smiled, made him promise he would not hit himself, and dismissed him. Hermione began to read the note to Malfoy, who looked disgusted.

"_Malfoy, went to my apartment for a quick few minutes to grab some belongings. Should be back by 11am at the latest. You've been granted over an hour free of me, congratulations. Hermione Granger_"

"Well gee Granger; it's too bad that you didn't use that thinking part of your brain to put it somewhere that the elf doesn't clean on an hourly basis. Or maybe, with your super-elf-conversation skills, you could've told dear _Wilby_ to leave it alone. What wonderful things happen when you try to do me a favor!" he said scornfully, "I think I need to talk with our little elf friend."

"Don't! He feels bad enough! Didn't you see? And you're right, I should've tacked it in the mirror of your bedroom. Too bad that would've woken you _up_ so you could just throw another pissy fit at me! I'm sorry, it's mostly my fault, you overreacted. Oh, don't look so shocked, I can admit when I'm wrong, something you can't do. But it seems that there are many things of the human nature you can't do. But worrying is not one of them, apparently. I'm proud of you Malfoy, I would've thought that you'd jump for glee to find me missing," she said sarcastically.

"Malfoys, do not _jump_. And worry? About you? Yes, and I shall be giving that elf a hug when this is over. But see, I don't want to be left with all the work if you should happen to be kidnapped and killed. Besides that, the thought never crossed my mind, so don't flatter yourself," he semi-lied, and left the kitchen, closing the patio door with a flourish and heading outside. Hermione huffed angrily and stormed away in the opposite direction to her room.

By the time Draco Malfoy had reached the stables, his heated vexation at Hermione had dimmed slightly. Writing a note and leaving it on the counter, he scoffed. Merlin, that woman was frustrating and awfully stupid for the "brightest witch of her age." The horses sensed his irritation and looked at him curiously. Deciding to ride bareback, he jumped onto Quirinus and sped away, galloping faster and faster. Slowly, his stress melted away.

Hermione sat on her bed and hugged a big pillow, her brows furrowed. She had been in such a good mood that morning, and then came back to find Malfoy questioning her whereabouts with an irate look on his face. Just when she thought that she would start with a clean slate, he had to be all moody and completely spoil her mood. She gave a sarcastic laugh when she thought about going and getting Crookshanks just to make him mad. Not one day of working and already they'd argued about a fairly pointless subject. Despite their little "unspoken truce," it appeared that they had enough to quarrel about despite ignoring the years of their past. He was still the same arrogant, cocky, annoyingly composed Deat-. She stopped and felt guilty about nearly calling him that, even if not to his face. Looking back, she realized that he hadn't called her Mudblood once, when he used to throw it and various other name-calling around like confetti to add pizzazz to every argument. So maybe he had matured a bit. Comforted by this revelation, she decided that she would make help the house elves make lunch for the two of them, as a sort of apology for her careless thinking earlier.

The calming wind whipped around him as he rode across the grounds of the estate, he could feel the horse's strong rippling muscles as he moved with it as one.

Wilby had been eager to help Hermione, feeling that he needed more than needed to make up for his forgetful behavior. He had not needed any help, but Hermione insisted, and felt that she needed to do something and could always improve her cooking skills. They finished and Hermione performed a heating charm on the meal and walked out to the patio to look for Malfoy. She had a feeling that he had gone to his horses, and before she could begin to head to the stables, she saw a black shadow and a distinctive white blonde flash. She watched in wonder as he rode with such speed, control, and familiarity with the horse. Stop staring at Malfoy, Hermione! Stop! But she followed him with her eyes for a few minutes more. Regaining control of herself, she yelled out "Malfoy!" but got no response. She hollered as loud as she could twice more, and was beginning to get frustrated when she remembered the Sonorous charm, and felt incredibly stupid. But before doing that, she had an idea. "Draco!" Hermione shouted; the name felt odd to say. She smiled as he came to an abrupt stop and nearly fell off Quirinus. She watched as he headed towards the stable, and waited for him to come back to the house.

Draco Malfoy was sweaty, surprised, and a bit embarrassed as well. He did _not_ lose control of a horse. Taking care of Quirinus and leading all three horses out to graze, he began to walk back to the house, where he spotted Granger's figure on the patio. He had felt quite cocky when he noticed her watching him, and then not so much once she surprised him by calling him Draco. No one had called him that in a long time. He wondered what she could possibly have to say to him.

"Hello Malfoy," she said once he'd arrived, observing that he was sweaty, but not so much as to be repulsive. He noticed that it was back to Malfoy, which he was quite thankful for, then he wouldn't be pressured to call her Hermione or anything ridiculous like that.

"Granger," he nodded.

"I made a late lunch for us. Wilby helped and told me what you liked."

"I'm touched Granger. I'll be down in a few minutes after I clean up." Hermione noted that there was no sarcasm in his voice, and felt glad that they could put this morning's incident behind them and get to the library after lunch. She smiled and sat down to wait for him.

And in all honesty, Draco Malfoy's mood lifted just a little bit at Hermione's thoughtfulness, even if she didn't go out of her way. After a quick shower and a dash of cologne, he ambled back downstairs to find Granger waiting at the table for him to begin eating. He nodded to her and sat down, and they ate together in relaxed silence.

"Lunch was nice, Granger." Hermione supposed that that was the closest Malfoy could get to a "thanks" or compliment. The corners of her mouth lifted and she began to bring the dishes to the sink.

"I'll get them," he volunteered, standing up. Hermione's jaw dropped to the ground.

"Did you just _volunteer_ to do _work_??"

"Close your mouth Granger, you'll catch flies. And don't worry. I'm just doing it because you will probably drop my very costly china and silverware. Once these get into the sink, I plan on asking one of the elves to take care of the rest," he smirked amusedly. Hermione shook her head, go figure.

She changed topics. "Let's leave for the Ministry library in about half an hour? I'll meet you on the patio so we can apparate." He nodded and finished putting the dishes into the sink, just as Tibby popped up and began to make the dishes wash themselves. Okay, so Malfoy had lied a bit, but he felt clearing the table was a small unsuspicious thing that he could do as thanks. Because he wasn't _quite_ so thankful enough to say it to her face.

Hermione ran a brush through her hair as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She enjoyed the company of this current Malfoy much more than the haughty holier-than-thou one. She hoped that his more agreeable mood would last, and by the time she'd reached the patio, she found Malfoy waiting for her and they apparated with a crack to the front of the Ministry library.

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Walking in, Hermione looked all around, seeing the hundreds of shelves and thousands of books. She'd been here before but each time was almost like the first. Eager to begin skimming through all the titles, she looked over to Malfoy who had already started walking towards a table.

"Malfoy! Wait!" He turned around with an annoyed look on his face.

"Maybe we should find a place somewhere more secluded. You know, to avoid being seen by anyone we know, who will ask questions. I don't want to deal with that right now, and I'm pretty sure you don't either." They found an isolated area behind books on Ministry Taxing, and agreed to meet back by 5:30 to share any findings. Hermione headed to the section with books on Healing first, while Malfoy went to find books on creating spells and potions. Both wandered through various aisles of the library, picking up a book here and there, but not finding anything considerably significant. Hermione, who was carrying four large tomes, passed by an interesting looking book titled "Unsolved Mysteries of the Dark Arts." There _has_ to be _something_ in here, she thought. Picking up the book and running her fingers along the indented lettering of the title, the book became fiery hot, and she had to drop it. Thankful that the book was not very heavy, she stepped towards it when it turned into a trap door on the floor. Her curiosity was itching for her to go inside, but her mind repeated the ever-known saying, "curiosity killed the cat." But satisfaction brought it back, she argued. Talking to herself. She was going crazy from not knowing. Deciding to leave the door open, propped by a book should it fall, she climbed in, not noticing "Unsolved Mysteries of the Dark Arts" reshelf itself and the trapdoor turning invisible.

Draco Malfoy sighed in frustration. The pathetic Ministry library had nothing of value in it. Too afraid of another Dark Arts cult rising, they had limited books on the Dark Arts to a whole five titles. "503 Reasons Not to Dabble in the Dark Arts," "The Rise and Fall of Past Dark Lords," "Danger of the Dark: Leith Finch's Fiasco," "The Unforgivables," and "Dueling Against the Dark." He shook his head in disgust, "ignorance is bliss," he supposed.

He hadn't picked up any books yet, most of these were in the Malfoy Manor Library. He knew that would be their next destination. When the Ministry had gone through their house, they had no clue of all the secret rooms and hiding places in the Manor that held all sorts of books, weapons, and magical artifacts. Although he felt that they should stay in Malfoy Manor, he had no use for these things and the huge Manor, so he had decided to take up residence in the Surrey home. By now he had wandered to the same place that Hermione had just "disappeared" from. He too, noticed the book "Unsolved Mysteries of the Dark Arts," and picked it up, not really interested, but not seeing anything else better to look at. Opening the book, he flipped to the Table of Contents and ran his finger down the list, when the book became a scalding hot, and forced him to drop it. Now somewhat more interested, he stepped towards it when it turned into the trap door. Why not, he thought, there's an hour before meeting Granger anyways, what did he have to fear? He was Draco Malfoy! He'd seen the Dark Arts at their worst. He slid into the trapdoor, and was out of sight before he could see the book reshelf itself and the door turn invisible.

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**Until the next update **(hopefully _soon_!)

**Jadyn**


	5. The Ministry Library

**Hello all! Not many reads and no reviews for the last chapter. ): This is all of chapter four. Sorry, kind of a long wait this time. I'll stop now so you can read. (:**

_Disclaimer: Not mine_

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**T**here were only about eight dusty steps down before they ended at a door that was slightly ajar. Light flooded from the crack. No dimly lit corridor filled with cobwebs, chilling mysterious voices, creaky floors, hidden messages, or disturbing sights. Hermione opened the door and what was inside was not what she'd expected, (She actually didn't really know _what_ she expected.) but she was delighted nonetheless. The small room was filled with books, wall to wall shelves, and five, ceiling height double-sided bookshelves. Hermione smiled and began on the right wall and worked her way around.

She was about halfway through the back wall when Malfoy walked in. Neither noticed the other. Hermione was too busy looking through the various titles and had about ten books levitating behind her, and Malfoy wore a disappointed look on his face upon finding a room of books. He had been hoping for some excitement but regrettably, was not to be granted that. He too, began on the right shelf and fingered through the titles.

Hermione noticed that all of the books in this room followed the general theme of the Dark Arts. She too, had noticed the Library's extreme lack of books referring to the Dark Arts and had a theory that someone, not wanting all these books to be destroyed, had devised the room to store them, and had collected various other books from all places and put them here for safe keeps. Whatever the reason was, she was glad for it; this room had been more helpful than the entire library for her research.

The small room reminded Malfoy of a miniature version of the Manor library. It was slightly less "Dark" he supposed, but he had to admit it was much more helpful than the "unhidden" part of the Ministry Library. If he hadn't grown up visiting the Manor library, he'd imagine the awe at finding all of these books. He smirked; he had to show this to Granger. Noticing it was almost time to meet her, he left the room and reached for the door when he felt himself transported back to where he'd been when he first took the book. The door was nowhere to be seen and the book no longer on the floor. Shrugging, he began to head towards their table.

He arrived about five minutes early and Granger was nowhere to be seen. At 5:40, she still hadn't arrived. Malfoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He smirked. Maybe he should ask the library's house elves if they'd picked up any notes. He saw that she'd left three books on the table and decided to go through them as he waited for her.

Hermione was halfway through the third bookshelf when she realized the time. 5:45! Bloody hell, Malfoy was _not_ going to be pleased. Quickly levitating about fifteen books behind her, she realized that she'd have to show Malfoy this room. Surely some Ministry worker would notice that she had fifteen books on the Dark Arts floating behind her. Setting them down at the bookcase she was currently perusing through, Hermione ran for the door and up the steps, too much in a hurry to notice that she had been transported from the first step to the main library floor. She was stopped by two librarians, both of which who told her not to run in the library, as if she were a little girl. Reaching their table, she saw him flipping through one of the books she had left there with a bored expression on his face. He heard her panting slightly and smirked.

"I'm so sorry I'm late Malfoy. I really wasn't paying attention to the time and I came upon this amazing discovery…"

"Really, now Granger? Is that reason for you to be," he checked a clock, "seventeen minutes late?" He wasn't all that mad. Decidedly unhappy? Yes.

"I'm sorry; I really didn't mean to make you wait or anything, but I…"

"Granger, you are a sorely incompetent person, and why I expected you to be anything else, I do not know. Hell, share your "amazing discovery" and let's see if it's anything worth listening to."

"I found this room!" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, all buildings tend to have those."

"Shut up Malfoy, and listen."

"I think you are in no position to be demanding things Granger." She narrowed her eyes and continued, excitement still dancing across her face.

"I was looking for a book that might help us, since…"

"The Ministry library is just as incompetent as you are."

"Will you just _listen_?!?" He leaned back in his chair and waited.

"So I found this book titled "Unsolved Mysteries of the Dark Arts, which seemed perfect for what we're looking for." Malfoy tilted his head a bit, wondering if this would head in the direction he thought it was going in.

"And I ran my fingers along the title, and then the book became so unbearably hot, so I had to drop it. Thank Merlin it wasn't very thick or heavy." Malfoy had a look of subtle disbelief on his face. Had they really _just_ been in the same room and not known?? What were the chances that they happened to pick up the same book out of the thousands at the library? Hermione thought his disbelief was because he thought she was delusional, so she quickly decided to clear it up.  
"I wasn't dreaming or anything, Malfoy. It honestly did happen! And then when I stepped towards it, this trap door in the floor appeared!" She looked fit to burst with enthusiasm now.

"Granger, doing drugs is a bad choice to make."

"I'm_** not**_ high!! Here, I'll_ show_ you!"

"Whatever you say, Granger." She pulled him by the arm and practically dragged him to the spot. He was enjoying her frustration.

"Here's the book," she handed him the familiar work.

"Run your fingers along the title," she instructed him.

"Are you kidding me? If this so-called theory of your works, then _you_ can burn off your fingertips." He handed her back the book and she huffed indignantly, but did it anyways. The book began to glow faintly and she winced before dropping it.

"And so then-" Hermione began.

"You step towards the book, which then causes it to turn into a trap door. There are about eight steps down up to a door that leads into a small room. Said room has wall to wall shelves and five ceiling-height bookcases. Every book is pertains to the Dark Arts, and the room is a bit dusty." Hermione of course, gawked at him, before gaining a little color in her cheeks.

"You_ knew_?? You _**knew**_??? And you _mocked_ me and _accused_ me of being _high_ when you _knew_ that I was telling the _truth_!?" She made a frustrated sound and narrowed her eyes. Malfoy smirked gleefully.

"I_ can__not_** believe** you!!" She made to slap him, but he caught her wrist, so she settled for whacking his head with her other hand instead, messing up his hair. Malfoy shoved away her wrist as he shook his head and his hair fell back to the way it was before she had so rudely whacked him.

"Aww, now did I really deserve that, Granger?" She was already halfway down the steps. He followed after her and they entered the room.

"Ok Malfoy, I got up to here," she went to her stack of books, "looking through the books, and found these," she pointed to the stack, "that may be helpful. I'll finish looking through the shelves, so could you look through the books and copy down any information that helps? We obviously can't ask to borrow any of these books, so I think that would work best."

"I think that maybe _you_ should look through the books you've already gathered. After all, who knows how many books you have may missed due to your incompetence?" he ridiculed her, knowing full well that Hermione Granger would never do a half-arsed job at any research. She glared at him.

"Just _do it._"

"Yes, your Majesty," he replied in an overly fervent higher-pitched voice. Glaring at him one more time, she turned back to the bookshelf. He transfigured a candy wrapper from his pocket into a small fully furnished desk and levitated the books over to them. Taking out some parchment from the drawers of the desk and dipping the quill into the inkpot, he picked up the first of fifteen books and began to skim through it.

An hour and a half later, Hermione had looked through all the titles, given Malfoy another five books to look through (to which she was met with a glare), and gone around again to double-check. She enlarged the desk Malfoy was working at and sat down herself. There were nine books left between the two of them to go through and over the next hour, they covered them all. Eighteen of the twenty books Hermione had selected mentioned the Praefocom Hex but only nine of them provided more than two sentences. It was apparent that no one really knew about the curse. They had copied from the books about two and a half pages worth of information, most of the books repeated the same thing, or what they already knew.

"We should find someone from Dolohov's line," Malfoy said randomly, starting Hermione from her focused work. She furrowed her brows a moment, then realized what he was talking about.

"Michal Dolohov. The creator of the curse, right?" A nod.

"A Czech or Slovak form of the name Michael, meaning 'who is like god?'"

"Cocky." The quill-scratching and page-turning resumed again, before Hermione interrupted a few minutes later.

"Oh, listen Malfoy," Hermione began to read.

_Melva Keenson dedicated her life to researching the Praefocom Hex when her childhood sweetheart, Tomathias Wilfrey, was hexed and later passed away from its effects. _

"_I was there when he was cursed. I couldn't hear what his masked opponent had said, but Mathias became still before he took a deep shuddering breath. Then it seemed as if he was back to normal and he ended up catching his opponent off guard and winning the duel. He was twenty-three then, the same age as me. It took him three months before he began to show any sign that the hex had hidden effects besides temporarily dazing the victim. He could never seem to catch his breath, but otherwise he was fine. At about six months, he could barely walk down a flight of stairs without turning blue and becoming severely lightheaded. He started coughing the seventh month and was bedridden by the eighth. He was still awake the normal amount of time and could hold a few hours of conversation before becoming drained of energy. Healers tried everything but they had no idea what ailed him. Treatments for pneumonia and asthma had no effect, and they even screened for cancer. _

_The ninth month was terrible. He couldn't even talk for more than twenty minutes without losing his breath. Most of the time he spent sleeping fitfully and his breathing was irregular, shallow, and strained by the end of that month. It got worse throughout the tenth month and three weeks into it, Mathias hit rock bottom. He spent more time awake, only because he couldn't breathe. For that last week, time passed so slowly. He was drowning on land and taking so little air. Healers tried "Anapneo," a spell which clears the airways, but it only helped for a minute or so. He kept throwing up bile and blood and Healers tried to empty his lungs of the stuff. They found that 75 of his lungs had already been solidified by the mess and when they started to clear it, they found that part of his lungs had been out of use for so long that he convulsed in pain upon using them. We all hoped that it'd only be for a while and he'd get used to it again, but that didn't happen. They finally decided to strap him down and put the stuff back in. Then mercifully, he fell into a fitful sleep, despite his choked breathing. An hour later, all of the contents that had been barricading his lungs turned to liquid and were emptied through his mouth. He choked on the last of the filth, then died." _

_This was the story that Keenson passed onto her granddaughter just days before she died in a house fire. No one has taken up the research that Keenson left unfinished, leaving the almost unheard of Praefocom Hex a fatal killer. _

"Wow," Malfoy spoke.

"Yeah. Wow."

"Seems like someone had something against this Keenson."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Just a theory. Maybe she was getting close to the cure, and someone knew that. And didn't want that to happen. If she died in a fire, her work would be destroyed, especially if taken by surprise," he mused. Hermione tilted her head, and then nodded. She hadn't even thought of that, but it made sense.

"I've got a thought as well. When Melva Keenson described what happened when this Tomathias was first hit with the Praefocom, she said besides becoming dazed for a bit and drawing a deep trembling breath, nothing else happened to him. In fact, he managed to recover fast enough to defeat his adversary. It's the victim's last true breath. Not the one before they die, but the last full breath they take. Once hit, we know that their lungs will never quite function the same again." Hermione turned a bit pink, realizing that this didn't help their research at all. Not that Malfoy's helped all that much either, but it seemed a bit more interesting and thoughtful. He didn't really notice though, and nodded in agreement.

"Are we finished here then?" she asked him.

"Yeah," he muttered a spell and the books began floating back to their spot on the shelves. Hermione turned the desk into a candy wrapper again, and stuffed it into her pocket. She heard a quiet rumbling noise from behind her and turned to see Malfoy, looking a bit flushed but otherwise nonchalant. Then she heard it again, and recognized it. Malfoy's _stomach_ was growling. He was a pale pink the second time she turned around and she smiled. Finally she heard it a third time, and had to stop herself from laughing.

"Would you like to get something to eat Malfoy?" she smiled.

"Shut up Granger," he grumbled, heading towards the door, disappearing on the first step. Hermione's eyes widened and she ran for the steps, and this time, noticed that she had somehow gotten to the main library floor without going up any stairs. She spotted Malfoy waiting for her.

"You, you, disappeared!"

"Granger. I'm right here. Are you sure you're not high?"

"How did we get up here? We never walked up the steps!"

"There's probably a charm on the step that transports you up here. If you took your time and clambered out of here, someone would notice, and then, the room would be found out, etc. Notice how you can't see the trap door anymore and the book isn't on the floor." Hermione looked and indeed saw the book shelved. As much as she hated to admit it, she admired his quick and sensible thinking.

"How did you…"

"Years of living in a house filled with secrets."

"Oh." Hermione began to walk back towards the table while Malfoy headed towards the exit.

"Where are you going?" they asked at the same time.

"To our table,"

"To the exit," again at the same time. Malfoy gestured for Hermione to go first.

"I have to check out the books I found."

"Don't bother; I looked at them all. They're all at the Malfoy Manor library."

"Then why did you agree come here?"

"To see if it could provide any additional resources that the Manor library is lacking. Which it doesn't."

"Even the room?"

"Possibly an exception. Now let's go." They left the Ministry library and before she could say another word, he'd grabbed her arm and disapparated them both. Again. They arrived in front of a picturesque little restaurant called "Cucina dell'Italia." Following Malfoy inside, they were seated by an attractive waitress with an Italian accent, who exclaimed "Signore Malfoy!" upon seeing him. Malfoy smirked suavely and nodded at her; they conversed a bit in Italian and a corner of Hermione's mouth turned down at the blatant flirting. Some other patrons at the restaurant smiled and nodded to him. The windows were charmed to look like the Italian coast and for a few moments, Hermione thought that Malfoy'd apparated them to Italy, before he'd explained.

"Why did you take me here?" she asked, then realized how rude it sounded. "I meant…"

"I was in the mood for Italian and this place serves it better than the elves. I haven't been here in a while and if having a good dinner meant dragging you and your incessant questioning along, so be it." Hermione huffed; she had another question that she was burning to ask, but that would just serve to make him right again. Instead, she glanced down at the menu, which was all in Italian, but after looking at it for a few seconds, it magically changed to English. Hermione was impressed. After pondering for a few moments, she decided and noticed Malfoy had already folded his menu. For a few minutes, the two of them sat in a somewhat tense silence. However, a handsome waiter named Rinaldo, Hermione noted from his name tag, came over to take their orders. Malfoy ordered first, in Italian. Then Rinaldo turned to her, and noticed her converted English menu, and Hermione watched him perform a spell that would allow him to speak in flawless English, so they could each understand the other better.

"And what can I get for the lovely lady?" Hermione blushed a bit and smiled.

"I'm sorry for troubling you since I can't speak Italian or anything..."

"Do not worry about it at all. Many people who come here cannot." Feeling a bit better, she made her order and talked with the waiter a little bit more. Finally, he left, thought Malfoy. The tense silence returned, before Hermione blurted out her question.

"When did you learn to speak such fluent Italian?"

"My parents insisted upon my knowing other languages so I was taught when I was younger in Italian, Spanish, French, German, and a bit of Latin." She was impressed.

"Did they teach you how to ride too?" He raised a delicate eyebrow in question.

"Horses, I meant." He nodded.

"Can you teach me?" she asked spontaneously. This time both eyebrows went up.

"How to horseback ride?"

"Yeah. Or another language, I don't care which because they all sound fascinating. You know, if you don't trust me on your horses or are afraid of me killing myself and then being left to finish this all on your own and/or charged for murder, or…"

"Alright," he interrupted her. Hermione still had her eyes cast towards the decidedly very fascinating looking fork when he agreed.

"Really and honestly?"

"Don't push it," he warned, a ghost of a smile on his face. Hermione's face lit up.

"Thanks Malfoy," she said wholeheartedly, and they waited in a comfortable silence for their food to arrive. For the rest of the dinner, there was no more conversation except for a brief argument where Malfoy paid the bill, Hermione argued that she wasn't penniless and that it now seemed like a date, and Malfoy retorted by saying that no matter how much he disliked the woman he went to dinner with, he still paid for her. This silenced her and left her feeling a bit offended. She'd thought that maybe he could at least vaguely tolerate her, but every time she thought that, he became cold and arrogant again.

The apparated back to the estate, where Malfoy went to the study and Hermione decided to pay a visit to the small library in his house. After changing into her customary tank top pajama pants pj's, she opened the door that she remembered Malfoy had pointed to on the walk-through. Pushing them open, she found that it reminded her of a larger version of the room they'd found in the library. It, of course, was beautifully decorated and had a large bay window seat that she thought, during the day, must have had a lovely view. Looking through the titles, Hermione found that there were a great variety of books, from reference to even Shakespeare. Picking out "Twelfth Night," something she'd always wanted to read, she went to one of the many comfortable armchairs, flopped down in it, and began to read. About an hour later, a familiar snowy white owl flew in through the open window and perched beside her looking very tired, but nipping her affectionately.

"Hello Hedwig! Did you have a hard time finding me here? What've you got for me?" she pet the owl and took the letters. Hedwig flew after her as she walked to the desk in the library and opened the letters.

"Ginny want a response?" Hedwig clicked her beak; Hermione smiled and found some owl treats for her.

_Hermione!_

_How have you __**been**__ recently? I haven't seen you since you started at St. Mungo's__**four **__**months**__ ago! We have got to do a better job keeping in touch. You must come for dinner soon. Oh! and lunch before that. How about tomorrow? Great! No, Harry has not proposed yet but he gets adorably nervous whenever I mention it. __**(I do not!)**__He's reading over my shoulder. -whack- And now he's not. Any new romantic interests Hermione? We've __**got**__ to find you a guy. So tomorrow lunch! We'll meet at the table in the Leaky Cauldron. _

_Much love,_

_Ginny_

Hermione laughed. Typical Ginny. Taking out some parchment and a quill, she wrote a response.

_Ginny!_

_I__**agree**__! I'll try to meet you tomorrow around 1, but I'm sorry in advance if I can't make it. I've got some…interesting news to share. No, not a guy. Well, involving a certain guy but __**not**__ romantically so, so don't even try. Thanks for keeping Harry in shape for me, and I hope to see you tomorrow!_

_A pint of Fortescue's and a box of chocolates,_

_Hermione_

She moved onto Harry's letter.

_Hey Hermione,_

_How do you like your job at St. Mungo's? Have you discovered a counter for the Avada already? Making millions? Good. Ginny's organizing a small dinner with me, her, you, Ron, and that girl he's dating, so we can meet her and all catch up. I suppose she's already humiliated me in her letter to you, so let me just say that I will get to it! I promise! I hope all's well with you!_

_Love,_

_Harry_

_P.S. If any Healers are being sodding pricks, just let me know! (Ron will be glad to come too)_

Hermione chuckled. How she adored her friends.

_Harry,_

_You are a very sweet man; Ginny is lucky. But if you don't hurry it up, we're all going to start ignoring you. And you are nothing without us Harry. :D I've been well and I hope you have been too. No cure for the Avada yet but we should see results in about a week, I'll send them to you. . Ginny will probably relay everything I say to her at lunch tomorrow so I guess there's not much else for now. Looking forward to seeing you guys! _

_Love,_

_Hermione_

Looking through the drawers of the desk, Hermione found the Malfoy seal, but not wanting the two of them to recognize it, charmed the letters shut with her wand and gave them to Hedwig, who was a bit put-off at not being able to finish all of the owl treats. Hermione watched as she soared out the window until the snowy white of her feathers could not be seen anymore. She'd just settled down to read some more when Malfoy walked in, hair mussed, tired-looking, and wearing sweatpants. Shirtless. Hermione blushed, and noticed that he was pale, but otherwise healthy looking and defined. And attractive. More blushing. They both looked at each other for a minute before Hermione managed,

"Malfoy?"

"No, the Bloody Baron in his twenties. But sexier." She rolled her eyes.

"What would you like?"

"It's twelve bloody o'clock. Why are you _reading_??" Hermione's eyes widened. She definitely hadn't realized it'd gotten so late.

"Oh. Sorry Malfoy."

"'s fine. Just go to sleep."

"I will. Good night." He didn't respond and she took the book and brushed past him out of the library. She was surprised. They were getting better at this civility thing.

"Night," Malfoy murmured, after she'd left the room, surprising himself. Seeing her in the form-fitting tank top, Malfoy had actually realized that she was a woman, and an attractive one at that. Not that he'd thought her a man or anything, she'd just always been _Granger_. But that now-blatant fact made things a bit more complicated. As he headed back to his room, he cursed Granger. Going to sleep would be a bit more…uncomfortable now.

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**Hope you enjoyed it! _Please review_, it only takes a minute!**

**Much lurves,**

**Jadyn **


	6. Dinner making

Hello all! Only six more days of school until Thanksgiving Break! Didn't get any feedback for the last chapter. ): Well, I have homework to do, so I'll post this and stop talking now so you can read. It might be a bit before the next update after this one, but for now, here is Chapter 5!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Draco Malfoy pulled the sheet over his head as he realized it was about time to get up. Glancing at the clock hoping that it was still early, he read nine forty-something. Damn. Grudgingly getting up, he wondered what their plan of action today would be. Probably the Manor library, he realized. Even more reluctantly, he got ready for the day. Passing by Hermione's room, the door was open a crack and he peeked in. She was still asleep, curly light brown hair splayed everywhere, pink lips slightly parted. He closed the door quietly and decided to wake her up later. Maybe in a rude fashion: cold water, loud noises, etc. Then he decided against it, not wanting to deal with pissed off Granger first thing in the morning. Opening the door again, he stuck his head in and spoke.

"Granger." No response. A little louder then,

"Granger!" She buried her face in a pillow and mumbled something.

"Get_up_ Granger." The covers went over her head. Then he remembered what she'd done yesterday.

"_Hermione_, it's ten o'clock." She sat up quite quickly, tired eyes wide. He smirked, it did work well.

"'lo Malfoy. Thank you kindly for the wake-up call," she said, a little sarcastically. He smirked, nodded, and headed downstairs.

Hermione had been dreaming of walking up to Harry and Ginny's house with another person, but feeling very apprehensive. Before anything else could happen, she heard Malfoy call her name. Well, surname. Then when he called her Hermione and told her the time, she had bolted up. Hermione scowled. _She_ had come up with the first-name basis in getting Malfoy's attention, how dare he use it against her. She knew this was a pretty bad reason to be mad at him, but she had no desire to get up. Then, realizing how they'd only started on the research, she quickly got out of bed, eager to hopefully find out more and organize and make more sense of what they'd found yesterday. Throwing on a t-shirt, she went down to the kitchen to find him dressed similarly to her, comfy pants and a shirt. Except he looked like he'd been up for a few hours already and she looked like she'd just gotten out of bed. Which was the case, although she didn't know how long he'd been up. She saw that Wilby was cooking feverishly for him, obviously not having forgotten his mistake the day before. Tibby appeared in front of her, surprising her.

"What is Miss Hermione liking to eat for breakfast?" she asked eagerly.

"Um, I'll just have whatever Malfoy is, but a smaller portion, please."

"Yes Miss Hermione! Right away!" And she ran off to join Wilby. Sitting across from Malfoy at the table, she hoped today would be a good day.

"Malfoy." A nod from him.

"Granger." A hesitant half-smile from her.

"So today we're going to the Manor library?"

"So it would seem. We'll need about three or four days to go through it all."

"Sounds good. Oh! I have a lunch with Ginny today around 1, so I think I'll be back around 3-4." He frowned, but she continued quickly.

"But I already owled her and apologized ahead if I couldn't make it but I haven't seen her for a while, so I'll probably be going, would you mind terribly?" He was slightly confused, was she _asking_ for permission to see her friends? From _him_? Although he _was_ glad to have some of the afternoon off and delaying the Manor visit. But he wouldn't make this so easy for her, just because of who he was.

"Of course I would mind. Do you expect me to just work diligently while you go off gallivanting with the Little Weasley?"

"No! Well, I mean…" He watched amused as she stumbled over what to say. Then he let her off.

"Go, but be back at a reasonable time. I'll be here and don't expect that I'm going to do anything." She seemed surprised, but immediately seemed much happier.

"Thanks Malfoy," she said amiably. He had already begun to eat, and she followed soon after. Finishing and cleaning up, she noticed that today Malfoy had not volunteered to clear the table, and wondered if yesterday, that was his way of helping out.

"When are you supposed to meet her?"

"Hmm?"

"The Little Weasley."

"Oh, around 1."

"Then we have about almost two hours," he motioned towards the patio door. "Come on." She frowned in confusion.

"Horseback riding. Would you still like to learn?" He hoped she didn't, but just slightly hoped she did. He didn't know where that came from, but was interrupted by her.

"Oh yes! I'd love to!" He nodded and they walked to the stables. Hermione inhaled the familiar smell and turned towards Malfoy.

"I'm going to ride Adrasteia, right?" He was surprised that she'd remembered the different horses. Malfoy instructed her on how to put in a saddle, bridle, etc. Walking the horses out of the stable, he helped Hermione mount Adrasteia, and did the same himself in a swift easy movement onto Kalani's back.

"Everything's really different from up here, huh?"

"Yeah. Now have you ridden before?"

"Three or four times, yes."

"Good. Tell me what you know."

For the next hour and a half, the two walked, and then towards the very end, began to trot around the grounds. The summer sun continued to rise higher in the sky and Hermione became a bit more familiar with being on horseback. The two rode in silence most of the time, Malfoy occasionally giving her instruction. Hermione tried to start conversation a few times, but was met with largely monosyllabic responses. Besides almost falling off and Malfoy pushing her back on (this was followed by an awkward silence.), the ride was mostly uneventful but enjoyable nonetheless. Trotting back to the stable, they fed, watered, and cared for the horses before heading back towards the house.

"Merlin! It's already 12:30!" Hermione gasped, "thanks so much for the ride Malfoy! I really enjoyed it!" she called over her shoulder as she ran up the stairs. Malfoy shook his head. He was surprised at the effort she was putting into being friendly. He wasn't sure how to respond to it, and decided neutral would do for now. Ordering Tibby to get him a cold pumpkin juice, he wondered what to do with his afternoon.

Hermione took one of the fastest showers she thought she'd ever had and went to the closet to find a robe to wear. Then, knowing that Ginny would notice right away, tried to find a cheaper-looking robe but she knew that the effort would be fruitless. Finally deciding on a casual jade one, she dressed and added a touch of makeup before running down the stairs and to the fire place. Malfoy watched as a flash of green robes and brown hair came down the stairs.

"Bye Malfoy! I should be back around 4 at the very latest! The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley!" The poised, cold, and supercilious man rolled his eyes at the vivacious, good-natured, and modest woman as she disappeared with the green flames.

Five minutes past 1, Hermione found Ginny waiting at the table. She was as pretty as always, dressed fashionably with her long slightly wavy red hair and sparkling eyes. Upon seeing Hermione, she smiled excitedly.

"Ginny!!"

"Hermione!!" The two hugged.

"Jeez,_ what_ is Harry waiting for? You look fabulous!"

"Probably the same reason _you_ don't have a boyfriend; you look gorgeous!" Hermione was about to un-exaggerate that comment when Ginny spoke again.

"Ok, you're wearing a _beautiful_ new robe that I _know_ is pricey, you're panting, and you're late. What's going on Hermione? I think we have some serious talking to do!" Damn Ginny and her observations. Hermione must've shown her frustration because Ginny enthusiastically pulled her by the arm and they left the Leaky Cauldron, heading to Wizarding London for lunch.

The two walked around a bit before deciding on a small bistro and ordering some sandwiches. As soon as they sat down with their food, the look on Ginny's face told Hermione to tell all.

"Well…" Hermione began, taking a small bite of her sandwich, unsure of how to continue.

"Well what??? Hermione, get to the point before I pour Veritaserum in your drink!"

"Okay okay, MypartnerforthenextfewmonthsisMalfoy." Ginny looked at her confusedly.

"AndI'mlivingwithhim." Hermione finished in a rush.

"Let's try that again, 'mione." Hermione took a breath.

"I have this project to do for St. Mungo's and I have a partner for it. Who happens to be Malfoy. And I'm living with him."

"WHAT!?!" Hermione was afraid that Ginny might not take that well, but she was slightly surprised when she spoke again.

"Merlin, Hermione, so when did you get this project and how lucky are you!?" Now it was Hermione's turn.

"_What_!?"

"Well, first of all, congratulations on the project, I'm sure it's some super exclusive thing that you're probably the youngest to work on in centuries…" Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Second of all, didn't Malfoy take second in Hogwarts to you? So he's smart enough, or they wouldn't have given him the project. Third of all, Malfoy is filthy rich so I bet you get to live in a _gorgeous_ house. Fourth of all, he's been proven not to be a ruthless killing machine multiple times. Fifth of all, Malfoy himself is not all that bad-looking either, quite attractive himself once you get past the smirking and paleness; he's been Witch Weekly's top _bachelor_ for the third year now, I believe." Hermione's eyes widened.

"And sixth of all, he's still filthy rich and obviously treats you more than well enough since you're not bruised, bloodied, and are wearing a lovely new robe!" Ginny finished, looking proud of herself.

"Treats me well!? He.. he…" Hermione frowned, she didn't know how to finish that sentence. He never hexed her, hit her, called her a Mudblood. Sure he was obnoxiously frustrating and she wanted to wring his neck most of the time, but as she thought about it, she was surprised at how Malfoy had treated her. Ginny looked at Hermione, seeming quite satisfied.

"It doesn't matter. He's still so bloody arrogant and cocky and spoiled and conceited and egotistical and obnoxious and emotionless a…"

"I get it, Hermione. I'll try not to set you up."

"Goo-"

"But I can't make any promises!" Ginny smirked, reminding Hermione eerily of Malfoy. Throwing a sandwich crust at her best friend, the two continued to chat away with no further references to Hermione's predicament. Three hours later found the two each with a bag of new purchases hugging goodbye, with the promise of meeting again soon.

Draco Malfoy was magically building a model castle in his study when he heard Hermione return.

"Malfoy?" she shouted out into the house.

"Study," he spoke in return. He was levitating the glue to a small drawer when she stuck her head into the room.

"Granger," he noticed she looked very happy.

" 'lo Malfoy, shall we go to the Manor now?" He subtly deflated.

"That would seem a suitable action, now that you've returned from gallivanting with Little Weasley." Hermione rolled her eyes and walked out of the study, Malfoy behind her.

"Are you planning on taking that with you?" he eyed her purchases.

"Hm? Oh! One moment then," she spoke, rushing up the stairs.

"I've spared you at least twenty, what's one more? Meet me on the patio," Hermione fished out a knut from her purse and threw it at his head. He caught it.

"A knut for my thoughts, Granger? I think you owe me a few galleons more, then." Restraining herself from throwing the large decorative vase she'd just passed at him, she hastily placed her bag in her bedroom and soon, the two apparated to the Manor.

A dark, secretive, and intimidating castle, decided Hermione, upon seeing and surveying Malfoy Manor. Malfoy paid no mind, she noted, and went straight to whispering what she could conclude, were unlocking charms. The imposing carved stone gates creaked open and she followed him up the marble steps to the double door entry. More whispering. Upon entering the Manor, Hermione decided being any more impressed by the extravagance would cause her eyes to fall out of her head. Malfoy smirked; her awe was nearly tangible as she followed him through the many hallways. Pushing open a set of doors, he gestured extravagantly.

"Zee librahry, madame." Hermione laughed pleasantly, and Malfoy's smirk bordered on a smile, making Hermione's widen just a bit more.

"Merci, monsieur," she curtsied, and then offered a small wave as she disappeared behind a shelf of books. Malfoy copied her latter action as well, and soon, both were out of the sight of the other.

"That was nice," thought Hermione, a smile on her face as she scanned through the titles with remarkable precision like she'd done countless times before. Hoping that the day would only get better, she picked up a book and began to read.

Granger sparkles when she laughs, Malfoy mused, looking over the generally familiar titles of the Manor library. What with being at least fifteen times bigger than the room at the Ministry library, by nearly eight, neither had any success. Disapparating back to the estate, both were moderately frustrated.

"Bloody hex. I'm going to hunt down the bloke who created this and make him read every bloody book in every bloody library in all of England," vented Malfoy, as he sat at the kitchen table.

"We've only gotten started Malfoy, the curse wouldn't still be a mystery if it was this easy."

"Well, it should be." Hermione raised an eyebrow at this very unremarkable statement of Malfoy's.

"Don't look at me like that, we don't all read for fun."

"I have other hobbies!"

"Like studying."

"And talking with people."

"That's not even a hobby."

"Sure it is, having conversation."

"Well you're not very good at it."

"Look at who I have to talk with."

"Only the most brilliant wizard in the history of mankind."

"This is under the assumption that mankind has only had one wizard, of course."

"Well then, it's a good thing you're not stuck with someone like Longbottom."

"There's nothing wrong with Neville!"

"I suppose perspective plays a part."

"Like you're so much better." Right after saying that, Hermione could've hit herself in the head. Wrong thing to say. Malfoy seized the opportunity just as she expected.

"Agreed, I'm dashingly handsome, delightfully witty, extraordinary company,"

"Idiotically egotistical, insufferably annoying, endlessly frustrating,"

"I strongly offer to differ; however I am hungry."

"And…" Hermione spun around from her spot in front of the refrigerator, surprised.

"I'm hungry," he said again.

"Well, make something."

"No thanks. Tibb-" Hermione threw an apple at him. He caught it just in time and looked at it skeptically.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with this?"

"Eat it."

"No thanks. Tibb-!"

"Do shut up." He narrowed his eyes.

"Don't tell me what to do."

"I just did. Now help me cook something."

"I will _not_. That is the reason why I own house elves, who I've been trying _unsuccessfully_ to call."

"They will not be doing any cooking today. You will."

"Make me then." He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair confidently. Hermione muttered something and the chair slipped from under him. Dammit.

"Now come help. You can even do the easy stuff." No response.

"I mean it."

"The silent treatment is a bit immature, I'd think."

"Draco!" Still no response.

Hermione turned to look at him. He lay unmoving by the toppled chair.

"I'm calling in a surgeon to castrate you if you don't get up!" Silence. Oh shit. She ran over to him and checked his vitals, relieved to find she hadn't killed him.

Draco Malfoy lie as still as he could, steadying his breathing and feigning unconsciousness. He almost smirked when she called him Draco.

"I'm calling in a surgeon to castrate you if you don't get up!" He very nearly flinched at that one; she did deserve some credit. He felt her rush over and go into Healer mode. Damn, if she didn't get those soft hands off of his neck _soon_, this whole act was doomed straight to hell. His hearing would be too. Time for action.

Hermione let out a little yell as suddenly, Malfoy grabbed her wrist and pinned her to the ground.

"Draco Lucius Black Malfoy!!!" she shouted, looking fit to burst with fury. He looked at her curiously.

"I guessed," she shrugged, "I can see that I was right." Damn his parents for giving him a predictable name.

"Well scream it louder, love, you might want practice for later," he smirked amusedly, eying their positions and feeling pleased with himself for having the advantage now.

"You are a despicable, deceitful, demented…"

"Love the alliteration."

"…Draco!"

"The perfect name for the perfect person!" She narrowed her eyes at him and grabbed the salt shaker that had somehow managed to get onto the floor. Sprinkling a few tablespoons onto his hair, he let go of her for a moment, and she scrambled free.

"You dare put salt my hair!?" he glared. Hermione watched as he tried to get all the little grains out and began laughing. He glared at her and put salt in her hair. She responded with a simple 'Scourgify'. He tried to kill her with glares as he reluctantly followed her example. Standing up, Hermione smoothed out her robe, still with an enormous smile on her face, and offered her hand to help him up. Draco Malfoy was confused. Was she going to play another trick on him? Well, he wasn't going to fall for it. Getting up himself, she rolled her eyes at him, but was still smiling. Damn. He would get her back for this, making _him_ look like the fool. As she headed for the stove, he called out for Tibby, and finally succeeded as she popped up and immediately began to make dinner.

"Don't think that you're always going to get your way Malfoy," warned Hermione as she gave up, sitting in the seat across from him. He smirked.

"I never think like that." She looked at him skeptically.

"I** know**," he finished.

-----

Hope that you liked, let me know; review! (:

Lurves- Jadyn


	7. Meeting Dolohov

**Happy December! **

**Yay! It's another chapter! I hope the story is keeping your interest and staying in character. There should be another posting this month what with winter break coming up in two weeks. (:  
**

_Disclaimer: Not mine_

-----

Hermione woke up the next morning with a smile on her face. Yesterday was a good day, she thought, peering through the many dress robes. Turning to her duffel bag, she decided on a pair of snug jeans and a blue pinstripe blouse instead. Opening the door to her room, she came face to face with a head and a pair of startling silver eyes.

"Bloody hell!!!" she squeaked, as he almost fell over in surprise, but quickly straightened himself out. He grabbed Hermione's arm as she was about to fall flat on her arse and smirked.

"You squeaked."

"Did not!"

"Did too."

"Well so would you if you opened your door and saw a head!"

"So you admit it."

"Ughhh!!!" She rudely pushed the door shut as Draco Malfoy just barely avoided decapitation at nine in the morning.

For the next week, their routine was very much the same. Wake up, eat a quick breakfast, head to the Malfoy Manor library to research, come back for a late dinner, sleep. It was beginning to take a toll on them both.

"I'm so bloody _sick_ of this," Malfoy spoke, dropping his silverware with a noisy clatter while closing his eyes and leaning back. Hermione stopped twirling her dinner of spaghetti and looked at him. It had been a week, and with perhaps only 10 more books to look through in the Manor library, they had found little that was remarkable. It seemed like the curse was as good as nonexistent.

"We could track down the latest Dolohov after we finish the books in your library. They might have something, a journal, record…"

"Granger, what makes you think that a Dolohov, one of the darkest families of the Wizarding world would want anything to do with us?" he snapped irritably.

"Well, we need to do _something_ after we finish the books so help me Merlin, unless you have another idea, then that'll have to be our next plan of action," she took her half finished dish to the sink where Wilby immediately took it. She was just about to leave the kitchen when,

"I'm just frustrated, Granger. I didn't mean anything by it," Malfoy said softly. She stopped and turned around to face him.

"It's alright Malfoy, just get some sleep; we only have one more day left in the Manor library." He managed a half-smirk.

"The day has come when Hermione Granger is looking forward to leaving the library. It appears I really do need to get some rest," he told her wistfully. She shook her head and managed a small smile in return.

"G'night Malfoy." He paused.

"Night Granger."

-----

He snapped the last book shut with a thud, causing clouds of dust to appear from the old musty tome.

"Last," cough, "book," cough, "finished!" he near-shouted. Hermione had just closed her book quietly, to look at her coughing platinum-haired partner with a look of relief on his face. She laughed, which was met with a glare from Malfoy, causing her to laugh harder.

"So," she said, regaining her breath, "what have we found over this past week?"

"Discussion tomorrow, home today," he managed, as the dust subsided.

"Malfoy, let's just finish it now, I'm sure there's not much anyways, unfortunately." With a huge exaggerated sigh, he shuffled through some parchment.

"Well, Melva Keenson had researched it, but that was from the Ministry library. A man named…Abraham Figg is said to have dedicated time to researching it as well. The incantation is two words, Latin. It can't be cured by killing the caster of the curse, and the most recent Death Eaters from the rebellion didn't know the cure to it either. They trusted the fact that no one would discover the incantation and use it against them. Someone found out, however, and two Death Eaters are reported to have been cursed with it before they, as in the Death Eaters, Avada-ed the person, unnamed, who knew. I have an account of a death caused by the Praefocom from its last use during Grindelwald's reign, and then another account of the cases that are occurring now. They're identical." He finished reading and looked expectantly at her.

"Ok, well… The curse is based off of an Ancient Greek one, _Apethanon stragkalizo_, roughly translated as the Choking Death. Two word Latin incantation, you said that. The cure to the _Apethanon_ was a form of the current "Anapneo" spell, _Anapeo maximius_. _Anapeo maximius_ is a wandless spell having only been recorded to be performed successfully by three people (all during Grindelwald's reign), as there is no wand movement for it; however, it is a short process." Hermione looked up to meet Malfoy's gaze. The little amount of information was disappointing. Malfoy was the first to speak.

"When do we have to meet with that Healer to share our findings? Or lack thereof." Hermione ignored the latter part.

"In two days, I believe. We can take a trip to the Ministry to find out who the latest Dolohov relative is and where they live. Perhaps we can pay them a visit tomorrow," she said, somewhat cautiously waiting for his reaction. He nodded slowly.

"We'll have to do that anyways, be it sooner or later." She gave him a smile.

"What do you say we leave the library now?" Hermione asked, putting her papers together and sending the books zooming back to their spots on the shelf.

"No time like the present," he agreed, ready in an instant and looking like he'd been waiting for her to say that for the past year. Striding out of the library, she jogged to catch up with him.

"Slow down Malfoy!" He stopped abruptly as she ran into him, catching his pleasant masculine scent. She mentally hit herself in the head. _Ok, so he smells nice. That's all. Just his sce- smell._

"Omph!" he spun around to see her on the ground, and smirked.

"Very funny Malfoy," she glared half-heartedly as she dusted herself off.

"I've always known I'm undeniably attractive but throwing yourself at me? Come on Granger, you could just tell me!"

"Hmph!" She walked ahead of him.

"Let's go for dinner," he offered. She turned to look at him questioningly.

"As celebration for finishing research in this godforsaken library," he answered by means of explanation. She laughed and allowed him to apparate the two of them to a restaurant.

Once the swirling sensation of apparation passed, Hermione opened her eyes to find bustling people all around her. The buildings were tall and modern and the people all dressed fashionably. She spotted a wand being used in a clothing store that they passed, and realized they were probably in one of those Wizarding towns she would never set foot in, but Malfoy would. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she wrapped her coat around her tighter and felt grateful she had decided to wear dark, un-torn jeans before walking to catch up with Malfoy, who fit right in with his cool manner and expensive clothes. They walked along the sidewalk for a short while before he turned to look at her.

"Granger, no one is going to ambush you and steal your coat from you," he spoke, while glancing to her clutched grip of it around her and her nervous glances around. She sighed.

"That's not it, Malfoy, look. Everyone's so like…_you_."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he took mock-offense and raised an eyebrow.

"Ugh, you know what I mean. Look at what I'm wearing, why did you take us_here_?" He looked her over with an expression of careful contemplation on his face.

"You'll do," he decided, before continuing to walk.

"Malfoy!"

"The restaurant is right up there, come."

"I am not your pet do-"

"Shame, you're a delightful companion." Hermione frowned.

"That was a bit harsh," she retorted. They had reached the entrance of the restaurant, which looked classy yet casual. He turned to face her with an undecipherable expression.

"You know, Granger, you always assume the worst of people. You might be surprised at what you find when you don't." He opened the door, and gestured for her to go in. She did, her mind nearly going into overdrive at trying to figure out what he meant by that. Did he want a chance from her? Did she really judge people too harshly? Was her past opinion of him still that obvious? What did he want her to act like? Closing her eyes a moment to try to clear her head, she was vaguely aware of someone greeting Malfoy, being seated, and given a menu. She looked down at it. Thank Merlin it wasn't so fancy that the prices weren't even listed. Deciding on a chicken sandwich and soup, she felt content to return to her thoughts.

Draco Malfoy almost smiled; he knew how confused Granger would be right now. He put down the menu, knowing what he would order already, the same as usual. He watched as she read through the menu, and then put it down before becoming immersed in thought, unaware of his watching her. How would she react? Would their relationship change? What did he want to happen? He didn't really have an inclination for them to become buddy-buddy. He mentally crinkled his nose. (It wouldn't do for Draco Malfoy to be crinkling his nose, let alone in public.) She was too over-analytical to change much, he reasoned. It would be interesting to find out what she would decide. And if she did take his advice, then he would possibly have Hermione Granger as a fr-. Wow, Granger as his _friend_. That would take some getting used to.

Dinner was finished in relative silence, each occupied in their own thoughts. After much blushing and flirting from an eager waitress, Malfoy paid the bill and the pair apparated back to the estate.

"Thanks for dinner Malfoy; see you tomorrow," Hermione said as she split ways with him, heading for her room.

"Night Granger," he uttered before turning around and entering his bedroom. Later that night, as he settled into the luxurious comfort of his king-sized bed, Draco Malfoy realized something odd. Hermione Granger had, for a while now, ceased to be his enemy.

-----

The next morning, the two walked into the Ministry of Magic in search for the identity of the latest Dolohov. After three sets of directions from three different secretaries, they found themselves in front of Padma Patil's office. Just their luck: Hogwarts' alumni. Hermione took a deep breath while watching Malfoy flick off imaginary lint from his shoulder. She knocked on the door, and heard a "come in!" Padma looked up from a few papers and held the quill in midair as she met the eyes of her visitors. She blinked, cocked her head, and then her manners kicked in. "Hermione! How nice to see you!" She stood up and gave her a hug, then turned to face him.

"Malfoy." They shook hands for a very brief moment.

"So, what brings the two of you to my office today? I'm terribly sorry I haven't been able to tidy up a bit." Malfoy looked around her immaculate office.

"Well, Padma, we need some information on the successor of Antonin Dolohov." Hermione fished around in her purse for a document from Healer Davies and gave it to Padma. She looked it over, and nodded.

"Very well, just one minute!" She left the room through a door in the back of her office and reappeared a few minutes later with a thin file.

"That's all I have, I hope it helps."

"Thanks Padma, I'm sure it will. It was nice seeing you!" Hermione and Malfoy headed towards the door.

"You too, Hermione. Bye Malfoy." Just as they were about to leave, Padma spoke up.

"Wait, you two aren't… together, are you??" She asked cautiously. Malfoy groaned silently. Hermione turned a bit pink.

"No,_we_'re not," spoke Malfoy, smirking in Padma's direction, the blush exchanging from Hermione to Padma.

-----

An hour later found the two of them in front of yet another door, this time a set of impressive carved double doors that opened to the Dolohov Mansion. Inside, hopefully they would find a cooperative Corentin Dolohov, 26-year-old son of Antonin Dolohov, and something that would help their research. Somehow, neither one expected that this was going to go exactly to plan. Malfoy raised his hand and knocked three times with the large brass knocker. A frail looking and dirty house-elf opened the door and looked up at them timidly. Hermione frowned.

"What is Sir and Miss wanting?"

"We would like to speak with your master, Corentin Dolohov." The elf shivered and gestured for them to come in. It sat them down in a parlor and disappeared with a pop. The house was beautiful, but dusty. A cold draft seemed to be blowing through it. Hermione shuddered. Malfoy seemed on his guard. They heard voices from down a hallway.

"Who is here, elf?" questioned a gruff and harsh voice. This would not be easy.

"A young sir and miss, Sir."

"What are their names?"

"Master is not telling Kip to ask for names of visitors but Kip is should be knowing better. Kip is deeply sorry, Sir." A kick was heard, followed by a squeak; Hermione's eyes widened.

"I do believe I do not need to reiterate the possible consequences of your actions. Leave, but do not err again." A pop was directly after. Soon, Corentin Dolohov appeared in the parlor. His face was narrow and pale, not as twisted as his father's, but menacing. He did not possess the icy demeanor of a Malfoy, but rather a general outward hatred of everything. Upon seeing the youngest Malfoy, his face took on a look of surprise. Turning towards Hermione, a conniving look crept onto his face.

"Why, if it isn't the great Draco Malfoy? If I had known, I would've cleaned up a bit!" he said, not sounding at all like he would've done such a thing. He turned to Hermione.

"And who is the lovely bird, Malfoy?" he sneered. Malfoy stood up, followed soon after by Hermione.

"I will not be addressed as a "bird," Mr. Dolohov, _Miss Granger_, if you please." He seemed contemplative, while he looked her up and down.

"I approve, Malfoy. Does she shag as well as she looks?"

"Mr. Dolohov!!" Hermione rebuked. The two men were locked in a stare down; it seemed that the youngest Dolohov and Malfoy had inherited any dislike between the two families. Hermione cleared her throat.

"Mr. Dolohov, Mr. Malfoy and I are here on professional business from St. Mungo's. We would like to look at any files, papers, journals, writings, anything that you may still have from the early Michal Dolohov." Corentin Dolohov's eyes narrowed.

"So the Ministry is using Mungo's to try and ship me to Azkaban, huh? Well you won't be finding, looking, peering, or searching through anything, _Miss Granger_. And Malfoy, siding with the _Ministry_… What a sad sight you are. You know, Father would always talk about how you were _nothing_ without dear Lucius' vouch for you, and apparently I never had any reason to doubt him." Malfoy looked down at Dolohov, looking for all the world as if he were a king listening to a goat complain.

"Listen Dolohov, we have no want nor need to listen to you take out your own insecurities on us, if yo-…" Sudden comprehension dawned on Dolohov's face.

"Granger… as in… _Hermione Granger_ of the Golden Trio! The brains and shag buddy of Potter and Weasel!" Hermione narrowed her eyes but before she could speak, Dolohov continued.

"Ohhhh, Malfoy. Cuddling up with Mudbloods now, are we? Well, she must have gotten some practice with our favorite Scarhead and rodent. Tell me Mudblood, d-"A loud slap was heard, and a red mark already making itself visible on Dolohov's cheek. Before anyone could say anything, Malfoy had Dolohov _Stupefied_ and bound with ropes.

"I don't know whether to thank you or tell you off, but maybe we should take this time to look for any helpful resources," Hermione considered. Malfoy smirked.

"It seems my devious Slytherin ways are rubbing off on you. Granger take advantage of this defenseless man's state to rifle through his house? Never!" She rolled her eyes and motioned for him to follow her. Thank Merlin that the Dolohov Mansion wasn't as large as Malfoy Manor. Malfoy was able to find his way around easier and she ended up following him. They had covered half of the house in about two hours. Soon, they stumbled upon a hidden room behind a portrait that looked like it hadn't been entered in a few hundred years.

"Perfect!" whispered Hermione, upon looking at the large family tree hung on the wall and opening a large chest to find tons of old papers and journals. After performing a few quick cleaning spells to get rid of some of the dust and dead rats, she quickly began busying herself looking through everything. Malfoy watched her and shook his head with amusement, before getting to work himself. Both soon became absorbed.

"Find anything?" he asked, many minutes later.

"No, you?"

"The Dolohovs used to practice circumcision."

"Draco Malfoy!" He felt a journal hit his head.

"I did not appreciate that." He began to look through the journal she had just tossed him (or rather at him), but only found it to contain a teenager's rambling. Sighing, he went back to the chest and wondered why on earth he was still doing this.

Hermione felt someone tap her in the shoulder, and looked up to find perhaps one of the most terrifying sights she had ever seen. With his wand poised, her wand twirling between his fingers, and eyes determined, Corentin Dolohov whispered "Silencio" before smiling maniacally and uttering "Crucio."

Malfoy heard Granger gasp wondered what had caught her attention this time; when she didn't respond, he turned to find a sight that brought him back to the times of the War. Dolohov, he spat. How he had gotten free could wait. With an unusual urge to protect her and pound him (well the latter wasn't so unusual), he ran into Dolohov, breaking the spell. Faster than Doholov could realize what had happened, he was _Stupefied_ twice and bound up with ropes thrice, plus a limb-locking curse for good measure. He rushed to her.

"Granger, Granger!" She quivered as she pulled herself to a sitting position. He put his arms around her to sturdy her. A few tears leaked down her face.

"My God, I thought that things like this couldn't happen anymore," she whispered, as she leaned on him for support. Now he felt the awkwardness of their situation. He transfigured a piece of parchment to a handkerchief and gave it to her. Slowly, he helped her stand up, and he made to leave the room, when she paused.

"Wait. We haven't finished looking through everything!"

"Nothing stops you, huh?" She managed a smile and sat down on a trunk. He found her wand near Dolohov and handed it to her. The two shrunk the remaining things to look through and deposited them into Hermione's purse. Malfoy paused, and turned to Dolohov. Muttering _Obliviate_ and removing the memories of their visit to the Mansion, he turned to face Hermione who had a look of disapproving acceptance on her face.He helped her up and they walked to the front entryway.

"Let's go home now," she said, and they disapparated.

-----

"How are you?" he asked a comfortably resting Hermione on the couch.

"Definitely better." He sat down in the seat across from her.

"Thank you, you know, for earlier today. I-I'm so embarrassed you had to see me like that. But thanks for helping me and all," she said, looking down into her lap.

"Granger, look at me." She complied and their eyes met, sending shivers down their backs.

"You aren't allowed to be embarrassed for today, understand?" She bit back her retort when she realized this was his way of telling her he didn't think any less of her and that everything was ok. She smiled, and he seemed satisfied.

"Do you want anything?" he asked her, standing up. She looked hopeful.

"A vanilla peach smoothie?" He sighed dramatically, entire pose crumpling.

"Nice try. I'll be out in the stables, ask an elf or ask one to fetch me if you _need_ anything." She laughed, and motioned for him to leave. As she walked to her room and plopped down on the large bed, she smiled. She was glad for having taken Malfoy's advice. Even after a round or two of 'Crucio', she felt better than she had in a while. Hermione realized that she no longer dreaded working with Malfoy, and even enjoyed their little conversations. This had definitely taken a turn for the better. She spotted something on her desk and went over to take a closer look. A vanilla peach smoothie sat innocently on top of some parchment with a note scribbled on it.

_HG,_

_I told you you'd be surprised._

_DM_

It was a delicious smoothie.

-----

**Hope it was to your liking! Please review! **(Thanks to those who have)

**Jadyn**


	8. Name pronouncing

It's here! Ok, not all of it, but about half. Finals are right around the corner so... yeah, unfortunately that means minimal updates, if any, soon. _But_, I did (kind of) promise something, so I tried to keep it. -sheepish smile- However, MLK weekend is longer for me and after finals so hopefully something then? -keep your fingers crossed!- I'll stop now, so you can read. (:

_**1/21/08 UPDATE! The rest of the chapter is finally up! Yay! **_

_Disclaimer: Not mine. _

_----- _

By the time Malfoy returned to the house, he found dinner on the table and two places set. Hermione was in the family room with piles of parchment all around her. He wondered if she'd gone up to her room yet.

"Did you have a nice ride?"

"It was pleasant. What're you doing?"

"Looking through the rest of the things from Dolohov's." He couldn't help rolling his eyes as he sat down across from her. Reluctantly, he asked.

"Do you need any… help?" She looked up, and laughed. He was insulted.

"I appreciate the effort it took for you to say that, but I'll be fine. You can go ahead and eat. I'll be right over." But he was persistent.

"Some gentleman I'd be to leave fair lady in such suffering. What do you have left?" She pointed distractedly to a pile to her left. When he had said that, Hermione was reminded instantly of when she had first come to his house, and noted how gentlemanly he was. He had commented on her worthiness, then. Did he remember that? Why was he so insistent to help her? Merlin, he was confusing. She turned pink when she realized he had, whether intentionally or not, called her 'fair lady.' Malfoy watched as a pink blush rose on the cheeks of the woman sitting in front of him. He would be lying to himself by denying her comeliness.

"Hermione," he let the name slowly come from his lips. He waited for her reaction, for once unsure of what it would be. She had surprised him today. But her reaction pleased him. She looked up curiously, eyebrows raised in question. Sitting up straight, they looked at each other.

"Draco," she pronounced quietly. Hermione realized it was Malfoy no more. The man in front of her deserved more than the harshness that connotated his surname. She repeated his name again, more to herself. As hazel eyes met silver depths in silent intensity, a smile touched each of their lips. Hermione stood up.

"Let's have dinner," she decided, her eyes animated with happiness, his expression portraying a mirthful smirk in return.

The dinner that followed proved to be a monumental occasion, one in which conversation was held. Hermione found that despite the fact Mal-Draco seemed uninterested in anything and everything, he was excellent at listening. For the most part, she did the talking while Draco commented. Occasionally, he would share a story but he was content listening to her talk. After Hermione won their little feud on whether it was newt or salamander blood that went into the Strengthening Solution, they made their way to their bedrooms, splitting ways at top of the stairs.

"Don't forget; we meet with Healer Davies tomorrow."

"Highlight of my week. Night. Hermione."

"G'night Draco." She smiled, and disappeared behind the door. Upon closing it she leaned against it and slowly slid to the floor. He sat down in a large plush chair in his room.

"Wow," they whispered at the same time.

-----

When Draco went downstairs the following morning, he felt a sense of déjà vu as he found Hermione looking through more parchments in the room next to the kitchen. She heard him approach.

"Morning Draco."

"Morning my studious little partner. Did you even _sleep_ last night?"

"Yes, but I never finished looking through these thanks to your being a… distraction," she complained half-heartedly.

"My apologies, Miss." He made a low bow and again helped her to look through the remaining papers. His curiosity peaked as he found an old yellowed piece of parchment that looked like it would crumble with a touch. On it, in a tiny but neat scrawl, were various arrows and many scribbled notes: notes signed by Michal Dolohov and precise instructions on the execution of the _Praefocom Hex_.

"Granger! Look," he urged. She rolled her eyes.

"Yes,_Malfoy_?" He handed out the parchment to her. It didn't take her long.

"Oh Draco! This is fantastic!" She squinted her eyes to try and read the faded ink.

"Wand movement, incantation, faults…" Hermione was completely lost in the precious piece of parchment. Draco leaned back on the sofa and watched her quill scribble furiously and her absorbed expression.

"So. Anything of use?"

"Oh shut it Malfoy."

"Oh! The surname! It hurts." She didn't respond.

"Well, how about breakfast?"

"Mhm."

"Pancakes sound good?"

"Mhm."

"With fruit or syrup?"

"Mm."

"And a side of Hippogriff fresh from the Atlantic Ocean?"

"I can still understand what you're saying, Draco," she responded, still not looking up.

"Come on, Granger. The paper isn't going to spontaneously combust."

"I'm almost finished! I just need to copy down everything in case something happens to the original. We can't afford to lose it."

"I'll eat without you then."

"'kay, I'll be right over." Déjà vu indeed, he thought. Draco made to go to the kitchen but ended up feeling slightly guilty for leaving her to work while he ate. He frowned, why'd his bloody conscience decide to appear? Luckily, she had finished and was right behind him just as he was contemplating turning around to bother her some more. Breakfast passed with the usual banter and not a minute later found Hermione bent over the parchment again, now dictating to Draco the spelling of the incantation. Draco was trying to translate it in his customary seat across from her.

"Are you _sure_ that it's not '_singultus_'?" he asked her, his eyebrows knit in thought.

"Positive._N-e-c-o-n-a_ space ­_s-i-n-g-u-l-e-n-t-u-s_." She looked up to see him frown, trying to decipher the meaning. His white-blonde hair fell carelessly over his misty blue-grey eyes which were focused intently on the letters he had written down on the parchment in front of her. She blinked and focused back to organizing all their work into a folder for Healer Davies.

"I've got it," he murmured. She peered at him eagerly, a corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

"Well, if I remember correctly, and this is, in fact, in accordance wit-"

"Oh, just get on with it!" He gave a little half-smile, amused by the witch in front of him.

"_Neco_ means to kill or put to death. _Singultus_ means sobbing or gasping, or the death rattle. And _lentus_: lethargic, slow, lingering. Tough and resistant. Makes perfect sense." Hermione smiled, but then her expression faltered.

"Look at all we've found out about the _Praefocom_," she spoke, taking out the few parchments they had managed to accumulate. She continued.

"After all this research,we know exactly how to kill with it, exactly how to execute it, exactly how to inflict its misery. But we still haven't got a clue on how to help those that suffer from it!" She looked down into her lap, feeling quite discouraged. Draco looked at her, amazed at how compassionate the woman in front of him was. Without thinking, he got up and sat next to her and gave her a little hug, just barely enough to count as one, but a hug. She stiffened, then relaxed.

"We'll get there Hermione." He let his arms drop and they sat there, side by side.

"Thanks, Draco. I nee-. I needed that." She smiled at him and offered a hand to help him up off the couch. This time, he accepted it and the two apparated to St. Mungo's.

-----

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy." Healer Davies walked into the same meeting room that they had first met in, looking awfully weary.

"Hello Healer Davies," Hermione rose to shake his hand, Draco stood and nodded.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news to share. Two people over the past two weeks have died and another three, all between the ages of 17-50, have been admitted under similar symptoms." He didn't need to say more. The positive feelings in the room tangibly diminished. Draco shot an inconspicuous look towards Hermione, who looked positively dismayed.

"Well, the news aside; how did your efforts go?" he asked kindly, in attempt to raise the mood of the rather melancholy (especially Miss Granger) pair. Hermione, about to unleash a presentation (with a few apologies scattered throughout), was subtly poked by Draco, who handed the Healer the folder. He took them and began to look through them; Hermione glared at Draco while rubbing her arm.

"He can _read_, Granger." She huffed. Healer Davies hid a small smile as he watched the pair from the corner of his eyes. Finishing, he handed back the papers.

"A wonderful start. We had people scouring the entire Ministry library without finding a single sentence about the Hex." Draco and Hermoine had reminiscent looks on their faces.

"It seems that the two of you are getting along very well, and if there's anything that can be of assistance here at St. Mungo's, don't hesitate to contact me or another Healer." He looked at each of them and they nodded in return.

"Well, I'll see you in two weeks then. Sooner if need be. All the best of luck, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy." He gave a little wave of his hand and left the room, muttering about an eight-year-old who had "accidentally" turned his brother's skin purple. They turned to look at each other.

"Do you ever remember being so little? When nothing mattered more than if you could sneak a cookie before dinner without anyone noticing?" Hermione mused, in reference to the Healer's soliloquy.

"_I_ was never an obnoxious teenybopper." He puffed out his chest a tiny bit.

"Oh really?"

"Obviously." She sighed, and pulled him towards the apparation point of St. Mungo's.

Draco was surprised to find himself in the middle of the stable after disappearing from St. Mungo's. Hermione looked at him shyly.

"Do you mind? I mean, we could always go back 'cause I could alw-" She looked to find him already mounted and waiting for her. Smiling, she saddled Adrasteia and they headed for the vast grounds of the estate. Silence was a welcome companion, each person in their own thoughts. The sky was a bit overcast and a slight breeze ruffled their hair. Soon, Draco urged Quirinus to a trot, and Hermione hesitantly followed, still lacking confidence on horseback. For a while, he led, and she followed. Gaining confidence, she pushed Adrasteia a little faster, until they were even. His pale eyebrows rose, taking on a challenge. Soon he was near cantering, Hermione tailing him behind. Then he went faster.

"Malfoyy, that's not fair!" He turned his head to tease her.

"Can't keep up, Granger?" She huffed and made to catch up. After a few seconds of awkward bumping, Hermione managed to ride with the horse instead of bouncing up and down on it. Draco rode back until he was even with her, and smiled at her determination. They slowed down, until they were walking again.

"Not bad, Hermione." She smiled brightly.

"Why thank you!" The ride had served its purpose; both of them were in a better mood.

"Comon, I'm hungry. Let's eat." Walking to the porch, they found a large tawny owl with a letter tied neatly to its leg. Draco went to the owl and took the letter, grabbing some crackers for it.

"You start, Hermione. Give me a minute; I'll be in my study." Hermione looked at him questioningly but when she was met with a look indicating nothing was amiss, she began to help Wilby, who was on meal duty, make lunch (much to Wilby's chagrin). Draco opened the letter, knowing exactly who the tawny owl belonged to.

_Draco sodding Malfoy,  
_

_Well, I hope this letter gets to you, wherever the bloody hell you are. Just don't show up to work one day and then two weeks following and leave me to deal with Jeremy Biggins and co. I'm perfectly fine with that! Do you know what Biggins said to me the other day? "Mr. Page, I do not care if you are wasted and exhausted from late nights of "clubbing",(He _even_ did the finger quotations.) I will not accept your routine unprofessional tardiness. If you have problems that you need to tend to, do so but one's personal life should not mix with his professional!" My Rolex works perfectly well; I was two minutes late for the _second_ time this month. That is a personal insult, man. That guy's got more sticks up his arse than branches on a pine tree. Oh and Receptionist Vanessa nearly jumped me in the elevator a week ago. You bloody well better get back here soon, Malfoy; being the only handsome bachelor here is tiring and there is no way in hell that I'm going to bloody write you every day like some lovesick priss. So respond._

_Forrest Page_

_P.S. If my owl doesn't return to me with a reply in a week, I'm going to hunt your miserable self down and you'll owe me an explanation and a new owl._

He smirked. Forrest Page was one of the very few close friends that he had. A man much like himself, he had met Page during his internship for being a Potions Master at St. Mungo's. Page too, had many women eager to become Mrs. Forrest Page, but despite his sardonic playboy attitude, he was a good friend. He picked up a quill and began to write.

_Forrest,_

_You've caught me red-handed; I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I've eloped with a beautiful Italian woman of 27 and run off with her. We are currently in __Venice__ making mad passionate love._

_Draco Malfoy_

_Kidding. Mungos' decided my brilliance would be better spent looking up the cure to a fatal killer-pneumonia-like curse. So for the past two weeks, I have spent more time in a library then my entire childhood and adolescence combined, OWLs and NEWTs included. Don't worry, you're not missing out on _too_ much. And when I cure the bloody hex, I'll be back to take some of that unwanted attention from our favorite nurses and receptionists. Tell Biggins I said hello and I'm sure Vanessa isn't _all_ that bad._

_Draco Malfoy_

_P.S. Oh, and did I mention that I'm paired with a near equally brilliant witch who currently resides in my estate with me?_

He smirked as he sealed the letter, anticipating his friend's response. Walking back towards the kitchen, he snuck up behind Hermione, who had a bowl of salad in her hands, and whispered "Gotcha" in her ear. She gave a little yell and dropped the bowl of salad, before collapsing in a dead faint. His reflexes responding just in time, he caught her before she hit the ground. Damn, this was not going according to plan.

"Granger! Hermione? Hermione!" He shook her a little, but her form remained limp. Oh crap. Placing her gently on the ground, he ran to grab some water. He didn't notice her get up and stand right behind him.

"Surprise," she whispered, laughing as he near jumped into the air.

"Merlin, Granger! You conniving sneaky little witch!" She grinned.

"Did you really think that I, Hermione Granger, would _faint_ so easily? Anyways, that was payback for your little chair stunt a week or so ago." Hermione laughed upon seeing him seat himself gracefully in a chair at the table, before slouching with his arms crossed.

"So, who was the owl from?"

"A friend from Mungo's" She raised an eyebrow.

"Well don't look so _shocked_," he replied exasperatedly. Hermione turned vaguely pink, embarrassed by her blatant surprise.

"So, what are our plans for tomorrow?" she asked, hoping that he would be remotely helpful. He waved his hand abstractly.

"Didn't you want to finish triple-examining Dolohov's notes?"

"Yeah, and that leaves us with only some ten hours left in the day."

"Picky, picky. We've exhausted libraries, we need people. What names were mentioned?"

"There was… um… oh! Abraham Figg. He's likely related to Arabella Figg, I'm sure Harry could help us fin-"

"_Potter_?"

"You know, you have a _terrible_ habit of interrupting people," she scolded. He shrugged nonchalantly.

"As I was saying, Harry wouldn't mind, so maybe we could pay him a visit, then go off of that to try and find if Mrs. Figg has anything of his. He'd be her… great grandfather I believe."

"Hermione, as much as I've made peace with you, Potter will always be… How do I put this? Potter."

"Oh, for the sake of this assignment, would you _please_ just let it go? I'll speak to Harry about it too."

"But you see, I can't just _let it go_. Our rivalry extends deep beyond the conscious comprehension of anyone's grasp. To admit defeat would be a self-inflicted wound with his sword!" She snorted.

"Poetic."

"Ladylike, Granger."

"I'll just go myself then and come back to fetch you."

"Honestly, Hermione, do you think me a coward?"

"Well Merlin Draco, what do you suggest we do then!?"

"We go to Potter, he notices me standing next to you, grows suspicious, gets mad, you explain, calm him down a bit, we verbally spar for a little, I obliterate him, you tell us to stop, you ask him for the information, his angry resolve breaks, you two have a catch up moment, I sit and wait patiently until your love session is over, you have the information, we leave, we proceed to find Figg! Flawless, if I do say so myself." She looked at him a moment, to see if he really was being serious.

"Got it all planned out, huh?"

"This soup is quite good. Did you make it?"

"Draco."

"To Potter's house we go!" She rolled her eyes and smiled. They ate in silence for a while.

"You forgot about Ginny," Hermione added suddenly. A confused look.

"You know, in your little play-by-play?"

"Damn." Pause. "Potter and Little Weasley are shacking up together?"

"I'm going to ignore that."

-----

What'd you think? I know, short... -dodges readers' unhappy looks- but never fear, this is NOT the end of the chapter, so there _is_ more to come. Any news will probably go into my profile. As always, please review!

**_1/21/08: Tada! Hope you liked it! Reviews appreciated. :)_  
**

**Lurves- Jadyn**


	9. Kissing?

**One whole chapter for you to read! (It's a pretty exciting one too.) We've had two snow days over the past week so it's been fun; I went sledding. (: Gigi's over. She says she's working on a story so we'll see how that works out. (Gigi: HEY!) In the mean time, enjoy!!**

_Disclaimer: Not mine_

-----

"Granger, there are easier ways to commit suicide," Draco observed, as he watched the witch stick her head into a lit fireplace.

"Oh, shut it! Oh no Harry, I wasn't talking to you. Oh it's no one. Yes, I'm sure. You wouldn't mind if I stopped by for a quick visit today, would you? Ok, great! I can't wait to see you too Harry, love you, bye!" Hermione stood up and dusted the soot off of her clothes.

"So, when's our date with Potter?"

"We can stop by after breakfast." A familiar large tawny owl flew in through an open window, landing by a plate of freshly made pancakes and nipping at them eagerly. Hermione untied the parchment and handed it to Draco, who smirked as he unrolled it.

_Draco Lucius Malfoy,_

_YOU. SODDING. ARSE. Tell all._

_Forrest Page_

He chuckled and put down the letter, reminding himself to send back a response later. Hermione took a glance at the parchment and laughed.

"I gotta meet this guy," she remarked.

-----

Hermione walked up the pathway to Harry and Ginny's home, Draco standing casually at her side. She couldn't help but feel apprehensive, and remembered that one dream she had had during one of her first nights at his estate, which fit this situation exactly. Maybe she could give Trelawney a run for her money, she thought humorlessly, knocking on the door.

"Hermione!" Ginny Weasley opened the door, grinning. The two women embraced and heard a voice in the background.

"Ginny? Is that Hermione?" Harry asked, coming to the door.

Draco decided to speak. "Bloody brilliant as always, he is." Hermione sent him a warning glance.

"Mr. Malfoy," Ginny greeted him affably, sending a sly look at Hermione, who turned her warning glance to the redhead. Harry appeared in the doorway behind Ginny and smiled upon seeing Hermione. Draco stood uninterestedly off to the side, biting back any "lovefest" comments. After they had (finally! thought Draco) been invited in, Harry noticed the platinum blonde Slytherin next to Hermione.

"Malfoy!? Bloody hell so I wasn't delusional when you said so!" he said, turning to Ginny. She rolled her eyes.

"You're a clever one Potter." Harry's emerald eyes narrowed at his childhood nemesis. Draco's silver eyes met his and made it apparent that time had not softened the men's dislike of each other.

"Hermione. Why are you working with _him_?!" She gave an exasperated sigh as Ginny watched amusedly.

"Harry, I wasn't given a _choice_. It's not like they gave me a list of people and told me to pick one! Besides, Draco is…"

"Malfoy. When did you start calling him Draco?" He turned his brilliant green eyes to look at her suspiciously.

"Since I began calling her Hermione," answered Draco for her (with that se-obnoxious smirk of his). She shot him a look that clearly said 'you're _not_ making this any easier.'

"Hermione…"

"Relax Harry, Draco and I are nothing more than strictly professional coworkers." _Did she want it to be any more?_ Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts. Harry still seemed uncertain and more than happy to throw a jinx at Malfoy.

"She speaks the truth Potter; calm yourself."

"If you ever…"

"…inflict any sort of pain, unhappiness, or distress on her, you'll find a painful and creative method to feed me my own insides," he finished. Harry looked contemplative.

"Not bad," he decided.

"Why thank you Potter." Hermione smiled happily; hopefully she'd be accompanying no one to St. Mungo's today.

"Harry, I was wondering if you knew anything about Mrs. Figg's current whereabouts? One of her predecessors may be of some help to us." Harry looked contemplative.

"Arabella Figg?" Hermione nodded in affirmation. "She still lives in Little Whinging; I'll floo her, if you'd like."

"Would you mind? Let her know that we," she motioned to Draco and herself, "might pay a visit to her today, if that's alright." He nodded and disappeared into another room, leaving Ginny, Hermione, and Draco in the cozy little living room.

"So…have you snogged him yet Hermione?" The latter girl looked scandalized.

"Ginny!" Ginny shrugged, "The sexual tension between you two is bordering on tangible, 'mione." Hermione seemed unable to come up with a response.

"That's not to say for lack of trying," whispered Draco, loudly enough, as he looped an arm around her waist. She swatted him away.

"Malfoy! Get off of me!"

"I'm gonna go find Harry, you two make yourselves… comfy!" Ginny laughed, as she left the room with a Malfoy-resembling smirk. Hermione glared after her and refused to make eye-contact with Draco, so she missed the unreadable look on his face. Soon after, Harry and informed them that Mrs. Figg was more than happy to receive some company and that they'd be able to stop by any time later that day. Hermione thanked him and the pair bid adieu to Harry and Ginny and disapparated.

-----

"Well, that went fairly well," decided Draco, when the reappeared on the back porch of the estate.

"Yes, I must agree, you and Harry managed not to throttle each other, we're all set to visit Figg today, and you made Ginny think we're together in addition to making us seem like some… comedy act!" Hermione listed off, stopping in her way to her room. There was silence for a little while, Draco still facing Hermione's back. Then he spoke.

"Am I really so repulsive to you?" he asked her, looking at her intently as she turned around quickly to face him, surprise written on her face. Hermione looked at his stormy grey eyes and loose white-blonde hair as she walked up to him. His tall, lithe, and well-built frame seemed tense and relaxed at the same time; she nearly lost herself in him.

"No," she said softly, coming to her senses and looking him clear in the face, noting the very subtle change in his expression. She leaned up toward him and their lips met. He was still for a moment, shocked, but soon reacted with equal intensity. The kiss was strong and fervent, as if each of the two were trying to prove a point. His arms went around her waist as hers found themselves around his neck.

_She's delicious_, Draco Malfoy found himself noticing. _Bloody mind-blowing_, he decided, as he quit thinking altogether for the moment.

_Chocolate cheesecake_, thought Hermione. _Sinfully delectable and leaves you wanting more than when you started._ After what seemed like hours, although it was really no more than a minute, Hermione drew back and looked at him, his breath coming out in short pants, grey eyes a pale blue in the light, lips slightly swollen. _I did that, _she realized.

"Not at all," she whispered. Confusion passed over his face.

"You don't repulse me at all." With that, she gave him one final look before disappearing up the stairs to analyze what, exactly, had just happened.

-----

He was attracted to Hermione Granger. Draco Malfoy paced in his study. Despite being _very_ proud, he was smart and blunt with his opinions. Wondering if she still wore the simple tank top and pajama pants he had seen her in in the library a few weeks ago to sleep, he sat down and massaged the bridge of his nose. Physical attraction was inevitable, he figured; hell it had probably started when he first noticed she smelled nice. It only got complicated once it passed just lust, which it hadn't as of this moment in time. He thought. No, for now he would just need to deal with his hormones. Good, he smirked, control regained.

He loved her lips. That is, when they weren't yelling, scolding, insulting, berating, etc. him. He wondered if Hermione would mind snogging again.

So,_what_ possessed her to do that? A simple "No, I'm not repulsed by you" or "of course not!" or "what woman in her right mind would be repulsed by you?" would've sufficed just fine. Excluding the latter, probably. But she had demonstrated. She was never forward; perhaps Draco's influence was rubbing off on her to make rash actions without psycho-analyzing. She sighed; what good did it do to lie? That was a bloody fantastic kiss. _I think I like him._ Shit. That very bloody well sucks. _Like what he did to your lips?_ Nope, not helping. Hermione continued to play around with the idea of having a, she grimaced, crush of sorts, on Draco Lucius Malfoy. Merlin's pajamas, _why_ did he have to go and get all likable?!

-----

"Hermione." Yes, there was the focus of his recent thoughts. She looked quite kissable, still slightly pink in the cheeks.

"Draco." The silence proved wonderfully awkward as Hermione made her way downstairs. She sighed with relief as, upon brushing by his arm, she did not get the telltale "electric shock" that she had heard of. Unless cotton and whatever material he was wearing (probably cashmere, she scoffed) didn't conduct so-called electric shockwaves of attraction. Dear lord she hoped he didn't think she was some…

"No Hermione, I don't think you're a brazen, promiscuous, scarlet woman that wants to drag me into a nearby storage closet and have your wicked way with me. Not that I would mind, though…" He raised an eyebrow suggestively. Her eyes widened slightly; how did he know! She tried to see if there was an extra presence in her mind, while blushing, and found none.

"Don't even Malfoy," Hermione shot back, with a small smile to let him know it was all in good fun. She inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Awkwardness over; familiar bantering was a safe ground to be on.

"Here's the address," Hermione handed him a slip of paper with Arabella Figg's address.

"After you, m'lady," he gestured towards the fireplace.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she smiled good-naturedly, tossing a pinch of floo powder into the fireplace and stating clearly, "739 Wisteria Walk, Little Whinging, Surrey!" before disappearing in green flames.

Hermione stumbled from Mrs. Figg's fireplace. She never had gotten used to flooing, but it didn't look as if she could say the same for her partner, who was currently standing as poised and composed as ever, smirking at her.

"No Mr. Paws, you're not supposed t-oh!" Arabella Figg had definitely aged as the years had passed, her hair was very nearly white and she moved slowly. She pushed her glasses up and squinted a little bit, before recognition dawned.

"Harry told me you'd be over today! Miss Granger, how lovely to see you! My, you have become quite a lovely young lady, no?" Hermione smiled and shook Mrs. Figg's hand.  
"And you must be Mr. Malfoy. Come, come have a drink!" she urged, motioning for them to follow her through the quaint but cluttered house. A spotted tabby was watching them interestedly, Draco noticed. He nudged Hermione and pointed to it.

"Tibbles, one of her cats. Part Kneazle," she whispered. That explained it.

Mrs. Figg sat them down in a little living room on Victorian style purple sofa, handing them each a small ornate teacup filled with steaming honey liquid. Hermione sipped at her tea politely while Draco held it in his hands. Hermione gave him a reproving look when suddenly her eyes widened.

"Mrs. Figg, is there a truth serum in this?" she asked, facing her seriously and placing her tea cup back on the table. Mrs. Figg looked surprised, before remembrance dawned.

"Oh! I'm sorry dears, I haven't had anyone over in a while and I'd forgotten the visitor's tea has some dashed into it. The Order. It was a habit I'd picked up during the War." She smiled apologetically while going off into the kitchen promising them a non-drugged beverage. Draco turned towards Hermione with that subtle and infuriating "I told you so" look. She huffed.

"She obviously didn't mean to!" she tried, defending herself.

"Do you trust her, Hermione?"

"Of course, and even if I didn't, it's not her that concerns us anyways," she reasoned. Ha; there. He nodded, accepting her answer.

"I do apologize," Mrs. Figg had returned, the cups refilled with an amber liquid and a plate of cookies in her hand. Both of them set down their tea cup and reached for a cookie. Mrs. Figg looked down sheepishly.

"So, what was it that you visited me for?" Finishing a cookie, Hermione, unsurprisingly, spoke up.

"Well I work as a Healer/Researcher for St. Mungo's, and Draco is a Potions Master there. We are trying to find a cure to the _Praefocom Hex_, have you heard of it?"

"I'm afraid I haven't; what does it do?"

"Slowly kills its victim by suffocation, in essence. Thick bile fills their lungs, rendering them unable to breathe," Hermione spoke quietly. Arabella Figg bit her lip in careful thought, before a spark lit in her eyes.

"That does sound familiar." She closed her eyes and thought for a moment. "Great-grandfather Figg," she proclaimed. Hermione and Draco met eyes and looked back to Mrs. Figg interestedly.

"Abraham Figg, I believe his name was. Either Abraham or Aurther. Maybe Asmond. No, no, it was Abraham." She smiled reminiscently, as if looking upon a fond memory, before turning serious.

"He was such a kind man, so compassionate. It was that curse he ended up researching. He was traveling through Libya, I think. He passed by a young woman hunched over on the side of the road."

"_P-p-plea-please h-help me," she reached for his robes as he slowly approached her. She didn't look a day over twenty but her eyes had heavy bags and sweat soaked her hair. _

"_Dear child, what's happened to you?!" Abraham Figg bent over the woman and supported her tremulous body as violent coughs shook her. _

"_I-I do-don't know! I-it's been g-getting worse," she was breathing heavily and erratically and her eyes were closed with effort as she continued._

"_Many weeks ago. He was, was dressed li-like you. C-called me a dir-dirty mugglul when I tried to ge-get away fr-from him."_

"_Muggle," spoke Abraham softly, but she had heard him and looked at him feverishly._

"_Yo-you know! Ple-please stop it! Please!" She was taken with a fit of coughing once more, something that resembled thick bloody phlegm emerging from her throat. She felt around his robes, as if looking for something. Finding his wand, she extracted it and waved it around._

"_He poi-pointed this at m-me! A light cam-came from it!" She flailed it around herself before Abraham took it away. _

"_Did you hear what he had said?" She shook her head. He furiously racked his brain for anything that would help the poor woman. Pointing his wand at her, he murmured "anapneo."_

_Her eyes widened and she tried to take deep breaths. She managed two and her eyes lit up but on her third, made a strangled sound before another cough. _

"_Dear Merlin, what _is_ this!" he thought to himself. Suddenly she went limp in his arms but with relief, he noticed she was still fighting whatever horrendous curse had been placed upon her, her chest moving up and down irregularly. Hoping that no one was around to see, he took a hold of her and apparated at the small hut he was staying in. Placing her on the bed, he went to his books and began to read._

"It was about two weeks, I believe, until she died. He found two others, both female, with identical symptoms. He was unable to save any of them. It was a long process; three months from the first woman to the last. It changed him forever. Everyone saw less and less of him, always huddled somewhere with a huge dusty book. He died when I was six. No one had the heart to throw out all of his papers and books." Mrs. Figg finished soberly. Draco and Hermione looked at each other, thinking the exact same thing.

"Mrs. Figg, you don't happen to know where all of his research is, do you?" Draco prodded softly. She looked up from her hands and to the young couple before her.

"Of course, of course, you didn't come to listen to an old woman ramble, now did you?" Hermione began to protest but Arabella Figg just smiled.

"It's quite alright dear. If my memory serves me correct, they should be somewhere in the attic. Lucky you two came to me. They decided ol' Bella could be their family historian," she chuckled. Slowly making her way up the old attic ladder, followed by Draco and Hermione, she pulled on a string that caused a fluorescent bulb to flicker before bathing the attic in a bright white light. Cautiously walking around various boxes, lamps, and all sorts of other oddities that an attic tends to accumulate, she made her way to a small door. Taking off part of a hinge, she pulled out a key from within it, to the surprise of the pair, and with a click, entered the room. Surprisingly, they found themselves in a room that from outside, like there would be no room to turn around in, but was magically enlarged to the size of a considerable bedroom. Unsurprisingly, it looked as if no one had been in the room since Abraham Figg died. Mrs. Figg was brushing away dust hesitantly from a large trunk when Hermione cleared it with a wave of her wand. Arabella Figg smiled gratefully as the dust in the room vanished. They came upon a smaller cherry colored trunk, paint chipped and gold embellishments faded. The carvings on it had been worn down by years of handling. On the front of the lid, was _Abraham Figg_ carved in simple font.

"This is the one," gestured Mrs. Figg, "take it with you, but remember one thing. Don't let the curse consume you." They nodded to the somewhat ambiguous warning, but shrunk the trunk and climbed back down the attic ladder, bidding Mrs. Figg farewell and disapparating.

-----

Taking their now almost customary opposite seats in the family room, Hermione crouched in front of the trunk and carefully opened it, the hinges of it creaking in protest. She coughed as she was met with a face full of old musty air and found the trunk to be full to the brim with old parchments and pamphlets. She gently picked up the top parchment and felt a tingly sensation in her fingertips. The trunk glowed for a quick moment, before it returned to its original state. Hermione wiggled her fingers and looked up at Draco, whose mouth was in a tight line.

"Huh. A sign from the ol' man, it seems." He waved his wand over the trunk and whispered something Hermione couldn't discern.

"No dark magic," he spoke, satisfied. "Well, let's get started, shall we?"

-----

_Many miles and a few enchantments away…_

She groaned as a headache suddenly began pounding her head. Brief visions flickered before her eyes. This young man and woman were interfering with her… duty. She huffed exasperatedly as the pain and visions dissipated and leaned back on the old rocking chair. She had never asked for it. Gellert (father he may be: she would never regard him with any such terms of endearment) had pushed it upon her, bound the stupid hex to her so that it would be wise for her to follow through what he had intended, long-dead he may be. Damn him. Constantia Wicksby, née Vindwall, cursed Gellert's idiot follower Dolohov as she got up from the rocking chair with ease that betrayed her one-hundred plus years of living. She went to find her husband; maybe he could help her find a way out of this. All she wanted was to live out her last years in peace but no, life is never that easy.

-----

**Hope you liked it; _please review!_**

**(: Jadyn **


	10. An old man and a young one

**Finally an update! I know, a month and a half. -hands out (whatever you happen to be craving at the moment)- Third quarter is over and half way through spring break already! It's ridiculous. We actually got _snow_, the first day of break. :P I don't have anything to go off of reviews-wise for my writing so hope you like this chapter. Although the only way you can decide is if you stop reading this so I'll stop now. (:**

_Disclaimer: Not mine (don't expect that to change any time soon)_

x-x-x

"This guy is putting you to shame," Draco muttered, as he read over Abraham Figg's extensive notes that bore remarkable resemblance to a book he had remembered reading a few days ago.

"Oh, hush." To their great disappointment, Abraham Figg had not found much more than they had regarding curing the hex. Hermione found his meticulous notes on the condition of his patients heartbreaking to read. As she moved all of the parchments to the table, she noticed a little carving of a wizard's hat at the bottom right hand corner of the trunk that looked as if it were dancing. She took her wand and poked at it, wary about touching it with her finger after the trunk had glowed earlier. Hermione gasped as from the hat popped up an almost holographic screen hovering in front of her above the trunk. She backed a step away and Draco turned interestedly, upon hearing the distraction.

An old, wrinkly, grey-haired man rushed over in the screen to face them, almost as if he had something to say specifically to them and had recorded a movie to say it. He looked frenzied and nervously glanced from side to side. Draco squinted.

"That's old Figg!" he realized, whispering. Hermione nodded mutely, afraid that anything they did might disturb the on-playing video journal of sorts. He began to speak in a hurried and hushed manner.

"If you have found this, my trunk, you will have noticed that it's all… It's all my studies. On the Praefocom Hex. Everything I've compiled is in there. This is my end- I'm sure, they've found me." Abraham Figg paused from speaking to look around again. A few banging noises were heard in the background. He continued to speak quickly and quietly.

"They are the sent by the curse keeper of the Praefocom. I don't know how many or if the keeper is with them. Please. Please, whoever you are. Cure this terror. Make it." he chuckled humorlessly.

"It took me this long to deduce. There is no cure. It must, it must be created. Do not bother with the wandless cure to _Apethanon_ _Stragkalizo_; it does not work." The background hammering got louder. Abraham Figg looked thoughtful as he turned back to the screen which Draco and Hermione were watching intently.

"I have no regrets. On how I've spent my last years. No. None at all. I only wish that it will not all be wasted. I expect that you who are viewing this are not of any relation to me. No, they will put all my things in the trunk and into the attic it shall go. But it is of no matter to me. Please, if you are not intending to make an effort, give this trunk, and its-its contents on to someone who may. But be careful, do be careful. The curse keeper, if you have not figured out; he or she is trouble. Nothing but trouble. My wish is that the curse will lead itself to extinction and the keeper should do the same but alas, I know better than that. They are here. Merlin, they are here! Remember what I've said!!"

"What are you doing there, old man?" a silky voice sneered as a cloaked figure appeared in the background of the screen. Abraham Figg's voice could be heard whispering something before the holographic screen shrunk and disappeared back into the dancing wizard hat carving on the bottom of the trunk just as the figure drew out his (presumably) wand. A shocked Hermione turned to Draco, whose neutral face was given away only by widened eyes.

"So it wasn't old age that killed him." Draco was first to break the silence.

"Do you think anyone knew?" He shook his head.

"Events played out just like he predicted, it seems. After his death, his family probably paid little attention to his beloved trunk. I'm willing to bet that whoever these "keeper" people are concealed any evidence of their dirty deeds."

"A curse keeper, he said?" reflected Hermione. An affirmative nod. "I've never heard of that, have you?" Draco mocked astonishment before admitting the same. Hermione suddenly stood up and sprinted up the stairs to the small library of the estate. Taking a moment to consider what had just happened, Draco followed soon after, albeit with noticeably less excitement that his female partner. By the time he had reached the library, Hermione was already perched on edge of the window seat with an old book that was sending tiny clouds of dust through the air as she flipped through its pages. He smirked as he thought of how only a spontaneous explosion of the book would distract her at the moment. A look of satisfaction spread across her face; he walked over to see what she had found.

"I'd remember seeing it somewhere, look!" Hermione pointed to a short passage.

_A curse keeper is a single person that is or is chosen by, the creator of a curse, hex, or spell. Popular in the very early centuries of Wizarding history, the job of a curse keeper could vary. In some instances, they were to regulate and/or record use of the particular curse, hex, or spell (for future references, referred to as c-h-s) Special charms could be performed that would let the curse keeper know every time the c-h-s was performed. Others could also use aforementioned charms to persecute anyone with knowledge about the c-h-s, useful in keeping it a secret. _

_Every single c-h-s has a curse keeper, from the Killing Curse to the Stunning Spell. Over the years as the population of wizards and witches increased to a much larger number, active curse keepers became much less common. Many curse keepers may be unaware of the fact that they are one, themselves; in other cases, may have just disappeared with the death of the creator. Others are lost in history, either existent but unawares or long deceased. The few curse keepers that are active generally keep a work of the Dark Arts._

Draco let his head fall back in annoyance.

"_Lucky_ us to be researching a Dark hex from a family dating back centuries. We haven't got enough to handle yet, have we? Gotta love Figg. _Ah yes, you get to _create_ the cure! And someone _might_ try to kill you since you're attempting to do good for humankind. I only spent some fifty years of my life without success at it, why don't you give it a bloody go!_" He finished his summary of the problems they now faced and put his head in his hands. Hermione bit back a smile that disappeared on its own accord once she realized the truth of his words. They made their way back downstairs with visibly less spring to their step.

Skimming through the rest of his journals and records, Hermione and Draco found themselves left with a thin pamphlet.

"Azure fire crab jewel, salamander blood, shrake spikes, crushed Mandrake root… It seems he was aiming for a potion as the cure," Draco observed.

"Odd, considering most spoken hexes or spells are countered in the same form that they are inflicted. What results did he have?" His grey eyes scanned the few parchments inside; it seemed that Figg felt he was close to something, as the many potions listed all seemed similar, with only slight distinctions between them. At that moment, Draco Malfoy hated the precision of potion making, and how one ¾ turn in the wrong direction at the wrong speed could make the difference between failure and success. He handed the last parchment to Hermione, the only one that had no big red X's on it.

"He hadn't gotten around to trying these three variants of the potion yet." She looked over the ingredients and instructions; he could tell she was contemplating the best way to go about making the potions.

"Diagon Alley tomorrow?" she asked.

"Like my saying 'no' will make a difference?" he questioned in rejoinder. She gave a short laugh.

"I suppose not." He glared half-heartedly, a traitorous corner of his mouth lifting into a tiny half-smile.

x-x-x

"Granger! Her-mi-o-ne! Hermi-bloody hell. Emme!!" Draco had been unsuccessfully trying to wake her up for the past few minutes in between knocking on her door and yelling. He poked his head in the door with thoughts of tossing a pillow at her when a messy head of brown curls appeared from the covers. Contrary to what most people thought, even though Hermione Granger could function on few hours of sleep, she treasured it when she could get it. She gave him a funny look.

"_Emme_? Did you forget my name for a moment?"

He shrugged. "Well, your name is too bloody long, with its intended four syllables (even though everyone only pronounces three), and your genius friends' nickname of "'mione" remains at three syllables. Herms and Hermy are simply demeaning so I figured Emme (_A/N: pronounced like the letter "m"_) would be easiest. It's in every variation of your name possible so why not? And it's bloody well shorter too."

"Huh." She continued to peer at him interestedly.  
"Well if it bothers you that much, then Hermione it is." She shook her head quickly.

"No, no, Emme is fine. It's just… different."

"Would you prefer Herms?"

"Different in a _good_ way!" she amended. He smirked, before closing the door. As he sat down for a late breakfast, he waited for the exclamation that would come from Hermione once she realized the time.

"Damn!" he heard her voice upstairs. Yep, he was good. _Accio_-ing parchment and a quill, Draco decided to write a reply to his friend's owl yesterday. What had he said? Oh yes, that's right: you sodding arse, with a bit more dramatic flair.

_F. Page,_

_Her name is Hermione Granger. _

He paused, not knowing what to say after that. He settled for:

_You should come visit. We'd be _delighted_ to have you. _

_Draco Malfoy_

He knew Forrest wanted a detailed description and would be frustrated with that response. A bit of his obnoxious inner teenager shining through, he tied the letter to the tawny owl's leg (which seemed quite annoyed at his delayed response) and shooed it away.

As Hermione peered through the expansive closet, looking for something to wear, she realized she had a large smile on her face. _Emme_, she mused. Her eyes widened. If she wasn't careful, soon she'd be in too deep to resurface. _It's strictly professional,_ Hermione told herself. Damn! she let out, looking at the clock. After glancing at the mirror and finding her appearance decent enough, she made her way to the kitchen.

x-x-x

Illaron Wicksby prepared himself as he heard his irate wife enter the room muttering about her father, using colorful adjectives he'd rather not repeat. He listened patiently as she explained the source of her frustration and thought carefully when she asked for his advice.

"Did he specify _who_ was to carry out the implications of your, erm, duty?" She bit her lip in thought, eyes lighting up when she shook her head no.  
"_Now _I remember why I love you, my dear Ronny!" Constantia smiled broadly.

"Dear Ronny does not wish to be called so, Tannie lov-" She shut him up with a kiss.

x-x-x

After carefully copying down the ingredients necessary for Abraham Figg's potions, they split ways after arriving at Diagon Alley. Hermione headed for the Apothecary there, while Draco made a few stops around shadier places. Looking at her list and feeling almost as if she were back at Hogwarts shopping for school supplies again, Hermione set out with a determined attitude.

With his hood up over his trademark platinum hair, Draco Malfoy immediately took on his air of holier-than-thou-don't-piss-me-off-if-you-like-having-all-body-parts-intact as he entered Knockturn Alley. The alley was eerie and derelict as always and a man sitting hunched over on the outside of a bar flagged him over, presumably still moderately drunk and very hung-over from the night before.

"'ey there Malfoy!" he attempted to shout, in a voice that croaked a little from disuse. Yep, probably drunk already. Draco narrowed his eyes as he walked closer, attempting to figure out who this man was.

"_Pucey_?" he asked, overwhelmed by the smell of liquor and vomit. Adrian Pucey gave a low laugh.

"Smarrrt boy! Whatcha been upta?" Draco flicked his wand at Pucey to rid him of the smell.

"More than you, apparently. Get yourself cleaned up, you're an embarrassment." With a sobering charm that immediately left Pucey with a full blown hangover and groaning in protest, he left, heading for a small shop with a creaky door that he knew sold potions ingredients.

x-x-x

"Oh my Merlin! Excuse me ma'am; is that _you_, Hermione?!" Hermione grimaced and prepared herself for an onslaught of rapid excited talking.

"Um, hi?" Lavender Brown beamed and ran over to envelop her in a hug. Hermione noticed a tall brown-haired man standing politely off to the side. Noticing this, Lavender quickly pulled him by the arm and sped through introductions.

"This is Peter, a Ravenclaw two years above us. Peter, love, this is Hermione Granger, but I'm sure you knew that already," she said laughingly. Peter shook Hermione's hand and nodded to her.

"Pleasure to meet you Miss Granger," he offered politely. She smiled back. Lavender's latest catch, probably. Lavender seemed to be looking around for someone.

"Are you here alone, Hermione?" Oh no, here it comes, she thought.

"Yeah. Just purchasing a few potions ingredients for a project." Lavender rolled her eyes exaggeratedly.  
"'mione, we're out of school already! Are you still with Ron? Single?"

"Ron and I are _just_ friends and yes." Lavender beamed.

"I know someone you _must_ meet!" Hermione prayed for the ground to swallow her whole.

"I'm afraid I mus-"

"Oh, nonsense! Peter!" Lavender's companion had excused himself to continue perusing through the shrew tails but looked up at her call.  
"Yes, doll?"

"Do you think Res is still here?"

"Probably, we left him but an hour ago." Lavender looked pleased. Hermione did not.

"Lavender, I appreciate the effort but I really must finish my shopping first and then I have to meet-" _Oops. Better not let that slip_, she decided. Before she had a chance to worry about a cover-up though, Lavender had continued.

"An hour then, at Fortescue's. You'll see him. Tall. Dark brown hair. Wearing, erm, blue I believe." Eager to get Lavender off her case and back to the potions ingredients, Hermione reluctantly agreed.

"Fine, but don't expect me to be enthusiastic and I may have to leave before tha-"

"Fantastic! You need a guy in your life; you'll thank me for it later." Hermione gave a smile, if only Lavender knew about her current living situation.

"Well I must be off now, it seems Peter is done and we've got to go let Res know he's going to meet a beautiful witch in an hour!" Hermione waved goodbye, more eager to _finally_ be free to shop and think in quiet than meet this…'Res'.

x-x-x

Res ran a hand through his hair. Peter was a great bloke but his latest girlfriend could really be a handful. He was sitting at an empty table at Fortescue's, where a brown haired "beautiful" witch was supposed to meet him in about five minutes. He felt slightly insulted. Did they really think he needed help to find women?! Hmph. The late fall breeze was chilly and he cast a slight warming spell on his clothes as he waited.

Hermione Granger could not be less reluctant to meet this man but she valued timeliness, so in exactly an hour, she found herself looking around Fortescue's for a tall man with dark brown hair. Seeing one draped lazily on a chair, wearing blue as Lavender had described, she walked over as confidently as she could. How she hated set-ups. _I'll be polite and courteous but let him know I'm not interested. Half an hour should do it_.

He spotted a curly haired brown woman walking towards him, with a hesitant but self-confident look on her face as she approached him. She had hazel eyes and was dressed modestly but fashionably enough. _Not bad_, he thought to himself as he stood up to meet her.

"Hello, Res, I presume?" Hermione stuck out her hand and he bent down and placed a light kiss on it. She cursed her blush.

"You presume correctly. Forrest Page, at your service; Res, if you wish." He gave her a winning smile. He wasn't bad, Hermione decided, polite and definitely handsome with his deep ocean blue eyes and dark russet hair falling just barely into his eyes. He had a rugged and strong build but his dark blue eyes were dancing with amusement. His name did seem awfully familiar though. They sat down at a table.

"You have yet to tell me your name, brown haired hazel eyed beauty." She laughed and diverted her eyes for a moment.

"Hermione Granger, at your service." she mimicked him, smiling. His eyebrows shot up.

"Is there something wrong, Forrest?" He shook his head and seemed to be amazed at something.

"Shocked that Lavender Brown set you up with a best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived?" she asked, looking at him curiously. He laughed.

"Among other things, Hermione, yes. I do have a question for you." She shrugged.

"You don't happen to have recently talked with one Draco Malfoy, have you?" Judging by the shocked surprise that passed over her pretty face, he figured yes. So _this_ was the one that one of his best mates was captivated by. (Not that he knew that yet.) Not bad, Malfoy, not bad. With his handsome smirk in place, Hermione was suddenly reminded of why his name seemed so familiar.

"You're Draco's friend!" She spurted out. He chuckled. It was 'Draco' already.

"The one with the tawny owl." Hermione nodded rapidly, then remembered something.

"When you wrote that letter to Draco and for whatever reason had written "you sodding arse," I remember saying to him that I had to meet you. And now I have!" They shared a laugh and he ordered them both a hot cocoa, as the late autumn weather did not seem to call for an ice cream. The next hour passed fairly easily and both found themselves enjoying the other's company much more than they had expected.

"Oh! Merlin, it's been an hour already! I'm supposed to go meet Draco in front of the Apothecary now."

"I've got a thing or two to say to him; let us go together." He held out his arm and she looped hers through it with a bright smile.

"Let's!"

x-x-x

With a multitude of potions ingredients shrunken and carefully placed in his robe, Draco Malfoy leaned coolly against a light pole in front of the Apothecary waiting for Hermione. He heard her laugh before he saw her and when turning to meet her found a most surprising sight. Looped though her arm was Forrest Page. His eyes narrowed slightly as Forrest's laughter mixed with hers and he walked up briskly to meet them.

"'ey Draco!" Forrest hollered, bemused by the look on his friend's face.

"I was set up with your lovely lady friend by a mutual…acquaintance of ours." Both Hermione and Forrest had a similar look on their face as they thought of Lavender Brown. Draco looked distinctly wary and ruffled by the two of them; one a friend, the other a…no he did not really know how to classify Hermione.

Forrest turned to Hermione. "Would I be wrong in saying that we shall both come away from this experience with one more friend?"

"Brilliantly said," she smiled. After a few more words of polite conversation between the trio, Hermione and Draco made to apparate away to the estate. With a pop, she disappeared but Forrest grabbed a hold of Draco's arm before he could follow her.

"Hold on to that one; she's something," he uttered, before smirking at Draco's confused expression as he too, disappeared with a pop.

x-x-x

**Well? _Please review_! I'm less than a hundred hits away from 2000 but only nine reviews! _Someone _has to have an opinion!  
**

**Lurves till next time (hopefully within the next month),**

**Jadyn**


	11. The 1st Potion

**An update! A few days past a month but this one's longer too. I caught a cold recently, ick, but it seems to be going away. I should be writing an English paper right now but alas... updating for you all instead! ;D So this is definitely going to be longer than my original prediction of 12-15 chapters but that's ok. Anyways, here's to hoping I get my English essay written and a new chapter!!  
**

_Disclaimer: Not mine (surprise, no?)_

x-x-x

Draco carefully spread out their purchases as Hermione meticulously checked them all off, quill scratching on parchment the only noise that could be heard.

"So what do you think of him?" Hermione looked up confusedly before understanding clicked.

"He seems like a great bloke, funny, charming… He'll make someone really happy." Giving but a moment's thought to his curious expression, Hermione made a few more checkmarks before looking satisfied. They gathered what the needed to brew the first potion and brought everything to the library upstairs. Hermione transfigured a chair into a sturdy and flame retardant table and Draco levitated over a finely crafted silver cauldron. Charming the directions to float in front of them, the two got to work, feeling for all the world as if they were back in Hogwarts and getting graded by Snape's calculating and experienced eye.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Draco declared, fifteen minutes after they'd started working; it was too _silent_. Hermione started and almost dropped the moonstone (exactly two years of age) into the potion.

"You bloody wanker!" she exclaimed, setting down the moonstone. Crossing her arms, she narrowed her eyes at Draco.  
"Never. Do. That. Again!" she scolded. He smirked.

"Yes, Professor." Try as she might, she could not keep a perfidious smile off of her face.

"Ok, it says to let simmer for two hours and seven minutes then…"

And so passed the next two days: stirring, mixing, heating, chopping, dicing, etc. The potion required frequent attention and when they weren't working on it, each found ways to occupy themselves. Both were glad to find the tension between them nearly gone completely, except for an occasional quarrel.

"Emme, it says _crushed_, not _ground_." He grabbed a portion of the boomslang and made to do it himself. Hermione tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and peered at the instructions.

"That's the last ingredient!" As Draco carefully dropped in the crushed boomslang, the potion gurgled and turned a shade of bright but deep blue. Hermione looked cautiously into the potion and smiled.

"Perfect. Now all we have to do is adminis-" She turned to Draco, whose face matched hers. Oh bugger. Yes, they had neglected to find a way in which they could test the effectiveness of the potions.

"Mungo's, I guess." Hermione hated the idea of using people as test subjects and Draco found it a little too close to the Death Eaters' habits. Unfortunately, neither one saw any other alternative.

"Pluck up that Gryffindor courage," Draco chastised Hermione, who rolled her eyes.

"And you? Your Slytherin… cowardice?" Draco looked offended.

"Self-preservation, my dear!" he proclaimed, as they turned off the fire to the potion and left the library.

x-x-x

"Miss Granger! Mr. Malfoy! You'll excuse my delay; I was not expecting to see the two of you quite so early." They nodded to Healer Davies. He looked expectantly at the pair; Draco mouthed "Gryffindor" to Hermione, who gave a little glare back before beginning.

"Healer Davies, recently we came upon the studies of Abraham Figg. He lived a few decades ago and dealt with the Praefocom after Grindelwald. He…dedicated his entire life to researching it but never found a cure." For now, Hermione decided to leave out the curse keeper.

"He was working on a potion, but seemed to feel he was close to something. He recorded dozens of variants of it but never got around to the last few before he died. We've made one of them, one that he hasn't tried yet. But we haven't got a way to find out if it's effective or not…" Hermione left it open ended, hoping Healer Davies would get it.

"Are you suggesting that we use those currently afflicted with it as test subjects?" He did. Hermione looked hesitant.

"That is what we are hoping, Healer Davies. There seems to be no other alternative if we are to progress anywhere," Draco replied, saving Hermione from saying anything. She would never admit it but sometimes she was envious of his ridiculously sangfroid and confident disposition that seemed to be exclusive to the Malfoy family. Healer Davies nodded.

"Very well, I will speak to the others about this and owl you tomorrow." The two uttered their thanks and the healer left the room. It was silent for a moment.

"Well, that could've gone worse," Draco decided before they disapparated back to the estate.

x-x-x

"Oh! It's here!" Hermione pointed towards a small speck flying towards the kitchen window. She opened it up and a small sorrel barn owl flew in. It perched on the faucet and obediently stuck out its leg. Hermione took off the note and unrolled it; Draco read over her head.

_Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy,_

_St. Mungo's has agreed. Please come in at 11am today for details._

_H. Davies_

"Well that's brisk and to-the-point." Hermione had already disappeared.

"That's in half an hour!" he heard from upstairs.

"Delightful," Draco muttered. He walked to the library and carefully bottled a small vial of the dark cerulean potion. Performing a quick anti-shatter charm on the vial, he pocketed it and headed upstairs to let Hermione know she had one less thing to worry about. Draco knocked on her door.

"I've got the potion so…" Hermione opened the door with a robe in each hand and only a bra and shorts on.

"Which one's more professional?" She asked him, first putting a navy one in front of her and then a deep plum colored one. Draco swallowed lightly and was saved from answering when Hermione looked up at him and seemed to realize exactly who she was asking. She felt a heat rise in her cheeks and mumbled a quick "sorry" before closing the door on him and flopping onto the bed. Draco cleared his throat and spoke from behind the door.

"Dark purple's good and… um, I've bottled the potion already." He massaged the bridge of his nose and headed for a not-previously-planned shower. Hermione shut her eyes and groaned as she heard his footsteps recede. How bloody _stupid_ that had been! _Not Ginny. Not Ginny. Not even Harry! Or Ron! _She grabbed the purple robe and buried her face in a pillow.

"Ready?" he asked her, giving a little smirk upon seeing her purple robe.

"Yeah," her eyes darted quickly downwards, "have you got the potion?" He nodded and they disapparated.

x-x-x

When they arrived in the little meeting room, Healer Davies and another woman with the turquoise Healer robes were already seated. Healer Davies smiled and nodded to them.

"Hello Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy. We're waiting on two others, so if you'd just have a seat." Sure enough within the next ten minutes another two people joined them. The woman that had originally been in the room with Healer Davies had mousy brown hair and a kind face. She was introduced as Healer Pedersen. Healer Monero was a man in his fifties, presumably, with neatly combed hair and a stern and haughty expression. Director Nichols had thin grey hair and spectacles perched on his nose. He was the first to speak.

"Now, this is the Praefocom Hex, correct?" They nodded.

"You do realize that the ultimate decision does not come to us. You cannot test on patients without written consent from at least three living relatives and/or caretakers _and_ the patient themselves."

"Understandably, sir." Nichols smiled a little, liking the young respectful witch.

"However, because of the specifics to the hex, I don't believe you will encounter many problems with that. Hopefully, many trials will not be necessary," Pedersen added.

"Yes, we do hope that you will come upon success soon." Nichols continued, "Out of a committee of fifteen, thirteen voted to allow the two of you to test. I should hope that we have no reason to doubt our trust in you." The difference between the look on Draco's face combined with Hermione's fervent head shake made Nichols wonder at the pair and their obvious difference in temperament. The Granger girl's resume was practically beyond perfect and although the Malfoy boy seemed a bit of a shady character, his work at St. Mungo's had been flawless.

"So essentially, this potion could do anything?" Monero asked, lips pursed as he examined the vial with the deep blue potion. Hermione frowned a bit at the degrading question.

"If we knew the answer to that, then we would not be assembled here in the first place," the Malfoy boy drawled. Monero narrowed his eyes a bit, not expecting such a response. Nichols chuckled a little. Monero was a very skilled Healer but he did need to deflate his ego a bit. Then again, the Malfoy kid seemed to radiate arrogance even more so than Monero.

"Anyways," Pedersen gave a little roll of her eyes, "lemme give you the necessary paperwork." She flipped through a clipboard that seemed to be holding a whole ream of paper. Unclipping a semi-thick file, she handed it to them and explained the many legal documents needed. Director Nichols and Healers Pedersen and Davies left soon after.

Healer Monero motioned with his hand for Draco and Hermione to follow him. The three walked through many bright and sterile halls, bustling with peculiar injuries and active Healers. Soon they entered a wing in which time seemed to slow. Hermione recognized it as the place where the terminally ill were kept. She bit her lip. How she _hated_ this wing of the hospital. All of the witches and wizards who were just waiting to meet their end: knowingly, sick, and confined. She stopped walking. Could she really do this? Come in a few times a week with this tiny possibility of rescue to offer a select few… debase the last few weeks of a person's life as a test subject?

Draco noticed Hermione's absence from beside him and turned around. He spotted her a few yards behind, eyes turbulent. He looked at her confusedly. She gave a tiny shake of her head when she noticed him looking at her. He gestured his head towards Healer Monero, who was slowly walking farther from them. She frowned but after a moment's more pause, ran to catch up. Draco tried to catch her eye but she walked quickly and looked straight ahead. Monero seemed not to even notice their temporary absence. He stopped before a closed door.

"Silencing charm," he motioned towards the door. Healer Monero handed them the clipboard he had been holding and a pager. Giving them a grim look, he walked away. Draco turned to look at Hermione who was biting her lip as her eyes scanned the clipboard.

"This is a _person_, Draco. Can we really do this?" she said, finally voicing her troubled thoughts to him.

"A person who's only chance to be helped resides in _us_. Who deserves to be cured."

"But we know how unlikely this may be, we're just dangling hope in front of them!"

"Emme, it's something or nothing, these people know that. What would you do if you were the cursed one?" That silenced her; both knew that she would volunteer herself as a test subject in an instant. She nodded slowly and handed him the clipboard.

"Della Fletchley, age thirty-two. Estimated seventh month of hex affliction," he read softly. The Praefocom took anywhere from eight months to a year to kill its victim, he reviewed in his head. Pointing his wand at the door, he spoke clearly "finite a silencio." Not a moment after, coughing was heard. Hermione slowly turned the door handle and they entered the room.

x-x-x

Propped up by a heap of pillows, Della Fletchley turned from the bucket next to her bed to look at the visitors who had entered the room. She tried to steady her breathing after the latest coughing fit; they didn't look like Healers and were dressed more for the nicer streets of Wizarding London. They seemed younger, if not close to the same age as her: the man with shining white-blonde hair and startling eyes, the woman at least half a foot shorter with curly brown hair. Della gently tried to clear her throat.

"Hello," she managed, surprised that her voice sounded almost normal. Della Fletchey had wavy chestnut hair done in a single braid to the side. Her cheeks were flushed, presumably from coughing, and she had bright greenish blue eyes on a prominent face that looked at the two of them with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. Her hands folded in her lap, Della looked at the pair expectantly, waiting for them to talk.

"Hello, Miss Fletchley, right?" Hermione asked.

"Mrs. But yes."

"Well, I'm Hermione Granger, and this is-"

"Draco Malfoy," he filled in.

"We're both employees of St. Mungo's: I am a Healer and he is a Potions Master. Recently, there has been a surge in patients coming in with symptoms like yours, Mrs. Fletchley." Draco continued,

"As you know, there is no known cure to the Praefocom Hex but Mungo's has recently upped its priority for research despite some qualified staff shortage in the hospital." Della Fletchley gave a single nod, apprehensive as to the reason of the visit.

"We have been assigned to cure this, Mrs. Fletchley. We have found three variants of a potion that may prove to be it," Hermione finished. Della looked at her hands for a moment.

"I remember now! They had mentioned this to me yester-" she broke off into a few coughs and grabbed the bucket near her bedside. Hermione quickly brought a glass of water sitting on the bedside table to her. When the coughs and wheezing had mostly subsided and she had caught enough of her breath to talk, Della turned to look at them seriously.

"Do I have a choice here?" she asked in a soft voice. Hermione was about to respond but Della shook her head.

"So my fate and who knows how many others rests in the hands of Malfoy Jr. and brains of the Golden Trio," she gave a somewhat sardonic laugh, whose effect was ruined by loss of breath, but looked up at them with a resigned determination.

"Alright then, where do I sign?"

x-x-x

Back at the estate, Hermione flopped onto the family room couch with a sigh. Draco followed similarly albeit slightly more reservedly, on the sofa opposite her.

"We have three days then. If we each brew a potion, we can get the other two done in time for our next visit to Mungo's," Hermione reasoned, to which Draco reluctantly agreed. Quickly scarfing down a very late lunch made by Tibby, the pair headed to the library for a tedious afternoon and evening of potion brewing.

x-x-x

_Three days later…_

"Three and a half turns slowly counter-clockwise before dropping in twenty-two milligrams of powdered newt eyes," Hermione murmured. The potion gurgled and became a shade of clear rich blue, similar to a deep pristine lake on a cloudless day. Hermione smiled, gut instinct making her certain that it had been made correctly. Draco's potion had been finished a few hours earlier and he walked over, peering into hers with an odd look. Hermione's smile faltered.

"Emme, are you sure this is the _third_ potion?" She handed him the instructions.

"Why do you ask?" He walked over to a wall-mounted cabinet and took out two vials, handing them to her. One was labeled AFigg 1, the other AFigg 2.

"AFigg1 was the first potion we brewed. The other is the one I just finished. Bottle yours." He handed her a vial labeled AFigg 3. With a quick flick of her wand, the cool glass bottle was filled with the warm blue potion. Setting them side by side on the table, Hermione and Draco examined the three potions. Hermione understood Draco's scrutiny: to the inexperienced eye, the three potions looked identical. Upon closer inspection, 1 was more transparent than 3, while 2 was brighter than 1, with 3 being slightly thicker than 2. Only such tiny details differentiated each from the other.

"Maybe we've made a mistake?" Hermione hesitantly offered, although the look Draco sent her confirmed that that was not the case.

"So, Figg alters little details in the making of the potions to achieve slightly different qualities and pigments in the final potion. Why?" Draco queried.

"That's the question, but we've followed through his instructions implicitly so-"

"Once again, we're stuck. Unless by some miraculous chance Figg got it right in one of these three potions," he deadpanned, with a flourish of his hand around the potions.

--

"That's bloody wonderful," Constantia Wicksby muttered, brushing some soot off of her shoulders as she finished her floo conversation. Illaron, whose ray of vision was still directed at the pantry asked halfheartedly,

"What's got your knickers in a twist now?" She glared at him for a quick moment.

"I just talked to Anna." He turned, sugar quill in hand, confused look on face

"Anna…?"

"On the Board of Directors at St. Mungos. She says that a few weeks ago they assigned two of their brightest new employees to a task involving _the hex_ and _cure_ and they've managed to come up with something." She frowned and sat down on her favorite chair, brooding.

"I suppose if you want to let our _dear_ grandnephew know, you may want to do so soon." Constantia sighed.

"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. Is it wrong of me to be so selfish?"

"Yes, but I love you anyways and I'm sure the devil will too," he teased. Constantia shoved him lightly and walked resignedly to the sitting room to write a letter to their relatively… unpleasant grandnephew.

--

Della Fletchley frowned as she spotted the crimson stain on the handkerchief she held in trembling hands. Grabbing the small handheld mirror off of the stand next to the hospital bed, she peered at her reflection: paler complexion, slight bags under her eyes, flushed cheeks, and a general tiredness. Della had always looked a few years younger than her actual age. Now, she looked every day and then some of her thirty-two years.

She quickly set the mirror back, face down. Carefully taking off her wedding ring, she looked at its inscription. _Always_. Always is a long time; how stupid they'd been. With a humorless chuckle, she thought of Erich. He was your everyday average wizard: fairly attractive, kind, sweet, a bit silly, Ministry worker, excellent at making a mess. He was a dutiful and loyal husband, visiting her for a few minutes every day where they'd talk for a while and then he'd leave. He hated coming to this wing of the hospital as much as the next person, but he did it anyways.

They'd very much been in love at one point in time but it had faded to a sense of caring. She told him to remarry in the future but he refused to have such discussions. Eventually, she'd given up and decided to write him a letter instead. Sliding the ring back onto her finger, Della spotted the small stack of papers on the bed stand. That had been an exhaustive discussion with Erich, but in the end, all of the papers were filled out and signed appropriately. He'd come to visit her this morning before work, knowing about the potion later that day; it had been terribly cheerless and removed. Feeling the oncoming onslaught of tears, she closed her eyes and tried to take a deep relaxing breath. And then the salty tears fell.

It was the first time she'd really faced the entire hopelessness and despair of her condition. Realizing now, as the tears fell faster and her nose began to run, it wasn't just a bad dream. Should she allow herself to place hope in the work of the young Potion Master and Healer? Suddenly something more important clicked. She couldn't breathe. Worried, she tried harder but black spots began to consume her vision. Everything started blurring and she fumbled for the panic button by her bedside. Before she could press it, she slumped over in her bed.

--

After the third time Hermione and Draco were asked for identification as they walked to Della Fletchley's room, they knew something was wrong.

"You don't think it's her, do you?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brow.

"She's still fairly early in the stages of the hex; I wouldn't think so," he replied evenly, although a little gut feeling told him otherwise. A solemn Healer greeted them outside her door.

"Mr. Malfoy? Miss Granger?" Nods.

"Very well. Approximately two hours ago, Mrs. Fletchley was found unconscious and not breathing. However, we managed to find a slow pulse and were able to revive her. She is currently stable but we trust that you will proceed with care and caution," he scrutinized each of them before feeling satisfied and leaving.

As the two met eyes, they agreed that any potion administering would be on Della Fletchley's terms. Quietly, Hermione pushed open the door and entered, followed by Draco. They were glad to note that she seemed much the same as she had three days ago, apart from slightly puffy red eyes and no braided hair. She gave them a little smile.

"Guess you heard about my little scare earlier, hm?"

"Yeah, yeah we did." Draco stood off to the side as the two women talked. Della reached for the file by her bed and handed it to Hermione.

"Every page has been read, agreed to, and signed."

"Brilliant; not too stressful, I hope?" Hermione handed the file to Draco who pointed to Healer Monero's pager as he slipped out of the room to deal with the paperwork. Mrs. Fletchley chuckled.

"He's not one for conversation or small talk, is he?"

"No," Hermione laughed quietly, "no he's not."

"Della," she stuck out her hand to Hermione, who shook it.

"Hermione," she said in turn. Conversation flowed soon after. Della explained to a sympathetic but not pitying Hermione what had caused her "scare," as she called it. Hermione told Della about some of childhood, both trying to stay away from the Hex. But inevitably, after a particularly nasty series of coughs and a bout of lightheadedness, the conversation wandered to the original purpose of visiting.

"We had planned to give you the first potion today but the decision is completely up to you. If you'd like to wait a few days…" Della shook her head.

"That's ridiculous. I'm obviously," she closed her eyes for a moment, "not getting any better." Hermione looked sadly at the, although ill, vivacious woman in the bed.

"Don't you look at me like that; I won't stand for it," Della scolded lightheartedly, leaning back on the pillows. They sat in silence for a few moments until the door opened and Draco entered, looking poised as ever to the world. Still, Hermione noticed a slight wandering of his eyes that portrayed how awkward he felt at that moment. She bit back a smile before freeing him from his discomfit.

"We've talked," she began, looking to Della.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be. No time like the present," Della spoke up, almost cheerfully. After a short moment of deliberation, Draco reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out the small vial with the dark cerulean potion. Carefully opening it, he handed it to her.

Della looked closely at the potion. Slightly tilting the vial, the potion looked silk-smooth, the glass cool to the touch. This blue looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it. The young witch smiled hopefully at her and the young wizard nodded slowly.

"I just wanted to thank you for this opportunity you've provided me," she told them quietly.

"No talking like that. I won't stand for it," Hermione admonished lightly, repeating Della's words from earlier. Draco felt he had missed something as Della smiled back before speaking.

"Well then, bottoms up?" Hermione and Draco turned to look at each other.

"Bottoms up," they replied in turn. In one swift motion, she downed the potion.

x-x-x

**Hope you liked! _REVIEW_!!**

**Lurves  
-Jadyn**


	12. Testing testing 123

**Well, look at this! I haven't died! (: Enjoying and taking advantage of my one week off in between summer school, hoorah! Profuse apologies for getting this out erm... two weeks after I promised. -guilty look- Uhh, let's see... we went to a zoo and a team consisting of two... giraffes and a couple of spider monkeys held me hostage because they...um wanted a trip to Africa! ;) Yeah, no really good excuses on my part. But the chapter's here though, so get to reading! Hope everyone is enjoying their summer!  
**

_Disclaimer: Come on now..._

x-x-x

_Grandnephew,_

_I have a task for you that you may find more appealing than drinking away your father's fortune and whoring around. Two people: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. Find them and stop what they are doing. I do not care if you contact some of your friends to assist you. Get it done. However, refrain from maiming, torturing, or killing them to achieve this. Terrorizing is allowed but _do_ control yourselves. Send Acacia back with your reply. _

_Constantia Wicksby_

_P.S. Illaron has an entire rack of fine alcoholic beverages._

Constantia reread her letter, satisfied. Brisk and to the point, he would not be able to resist. She sighed. It was unfortunate what had become of him and his…friends after the Rebellion. The Death Eater life was the only one most of them knew how to live. They were a pitiful lot now. Sealing the letter and tying it onto Acacia's leg, she watched the majestic grey owl fly off into the distance before heading to the kitchen.

x-x-x

Flashback to Chapter 10:

"_Well then, bottoms up?" Hermione and Draco turned to look at each other._

"_Bottoms up," they replied in turn. In one swift motion, she downed the potion. _

The glass vial clattered to the floor, the anti-shatter charm preventing it from breaking. But Draco and Hermione's attention were focused on Della Fletchley, who immediately after swallowing the potion, had gone slack in her bed. Alarmed, they had rushed over only to find that she had seemed to have fallen… asleep. When Hermione gently shook her shoulder, she had moaned lightly and turned the other way.

They exchanged looks of confusion. Draco sat down in the chair in the room; Hermione stole a piece of parchment from the clipboard he was holding and transfigured it into a chair. Taking about half of the parchments and paperwork from the clipboard, Draco handed it to Hermione. Within minutes, quill scratching, some machine beeping, and light breathing were the only things heard in the room.

An hour later found no change in Della Fletchley's condition, a thoroughly uninterested Draco Malfoy, and Hermione Granger leafing apathetically through the clipboard.

"No miracles today, hm?" Hermione thought aloud as she looked at the sleeping patient, breaking the haze the room had been in.

"I would be lying if I said that I had expected this to be it. Nothing worth anything is ever that easy," he responded, surprising Hermione with the depth of his remark.

"No, I suppose not."

"Are you _agreeing_ with me, Miss Granger?" he turned to her with a curious expression. She smiled. _Was that a hint of a smirk he detected?_ Draco thought humorously.

"It's been known to happen, Mr. Malfoy," she looked back momentarily to Della, a fleeting sadness passing through her eyes. Yes, she had hoped for just a moment that this would've been it.

"Shall we bid Mrs. Fletchley adieu then?"

"Yeah. Director Nichols will want this," she picked up the clipboard. Quietly, they slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind them.

x-x-x

"Would you like to go for a ride?" Hermione asked unexpectedly.

"That'd be nice. Food first," he decided, after a moment's hesitation. She rolled her eyes; go figure. She transformed her outfit to a warm jacket and Muggle jeans before walking towards the stable at a leisurely pace. Light dancing snowflakes began to fall lightly, melting as they touched the ground. Hermione bit her lip in thought.

Their assignment was slowly turning into something she was losing familiarity with. It had started out like a project she would've been assigned during Hogwarts: research, record, turn in, and get graded. Something that allowed her to have a few weeks away from the busy-ness of Healing while still doing something productive, something helpful. The excitement from discovering something key, satisfaction from finishing a task, and knowledge of the exact final product were milestones she was experienced with, understood, and she realized now, reveled in. But this? This was closer to searching for Horcruxes than research on Goblin rebellions; this was guesswork, gut feeling, hope-raising, disappointing, and utterly real.

Hermione thought back to the clipboard Draco had brought back to Della's room after he had turned in her paperwork. About a dozen other people had been admitted to St. Mungo's inflicted with the Hex since Healer Davies had last formally checked up on them some two weeks ago. Hermione knew that Draco had been told, not caring much about why he hadn't told her. Memory slip, disregarding it, shielding her from the nasty truth…the last option made her chuckle. Regardless, she had found out and the fact wasn't weighing so well on her at the moment.

The pungent smell of manure and wafting scent of hay momentarily pervaded her train of thought. The horses' ears pricked up at the creaking of the opening door. The hasty manner of the normally calm and gentle woman puzzled them but as Hermione fairly efficiently saddled, bridled, and mounted Adrasteia, they thought little more of it.

Finishing up a blueberry pastry, Draco Malfoy strode briskly outside, casting a warming charm on his clothes upon being struck by the chilly air. He spotted Hermione trotting on the dark brown mare a few yards from the stable. She had taken to horseback quite naturally; it was a good thing, he supposed, as extended patience and tolerance were not things he could claim to have. He realized that she had hoped (and been disappointed) more than she had given on to that the potion today would be the one. Feeling justified in not telling her about the new patients, he smirked as the horses whinnied and nickered happily as he entered the stable.

x-x-x

He chuckled slowly as he reread his grandaunt's letter. No, she was not your average little old woman. As much as he knew she hated her father, there were times when his qualities would shine through. Now was one such time. Shoving the scantily clad buxom witch off of his lap (much to her protest), he swaggered to his study to send out a few owls, Acacia flying unwillingly behind him.

x-x-x

"Is that supposed to be _edible_?" he asked warily, looking down at the balls of dough on the cookie sheet. The ride and following evening had helped to mellow out Hermione's outlook and she had decided to do some baking in the kitchen. Both house elves watched her apprehensively.

"Bugger. I guess the next time I want to poison you I'll have to work on the aesthetic appeal a bit more." He wasn't amused.

"Why is it brown and lumpy?"

"Because that's what the…! Merlin, Draco, just wait…eleven minutes and then you'll find out." Still not convinced, he picked up the latest _Daily Prophet_ and perused through it. Tibby and Wilby watched wide-eyed as Hermione opened up the preheated oven and put the tray inside, setting the timer. So that's what the practically indestructible box was for; heating small rounds of amorphous flour-based substances. No, this still made no sense to them…

"Cookies!? _That's_ what you've been biking?"

"_Baking_. And yes. White chocolate toffee macadamia and good ol' chocolate chip." The house elves were still at a loss as to how Muggle baking worked but satisfied that the house had not been destroyed beyond repair and no signs of impending destruction were apparent, disappeared with a pop. Cautiously and under Hermione's expectant eye, he took a bite of a cookie. He chewed it thoughtfully for a few moments.

"Not bad, I suppose," he declared. She rolled her eyes.

"That's about the best I'm going to get, isn't it?" He shrugged. As she turned to clean some of the mixing bowls, he hastily grabbed a handful of the cookies before nonchalantly holding up the _Daily Prophet_ in front of his face as he "read" it. Putting away the mixing bowls, Hermione turned to find a fair amount of her neatly arranged cookies missing and a conveniently face-shielding _Daily Prophet_.

"Would you like some more while you're at it?" she asked him, arms crossed and knowing look on face. He lowered the newspaper, an amused glint flashing through his storm grey eyes.

"I haven't the slightest clue as to what you're talking about."

x-x-x

_Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy,_

_Come at once._

His stomach churned slightly. He scanned the small memo-sized parchment for any other writing but found none. The blue and black stationary of the note indicated that it had come from St. Mungo's and the owl that had delivered it pecked eagerly at the sink faucet. Quickly turning it on, to the thirsty owl's delight, he dashed out to the porch where he found Hermione sitting on the swing reading some book or another. He dropped the note in front of her where it fluttered down to her lap. Distracted from her book, she looked up at him curiously. Alarm quickly replaced curiosity as she scanned the three word message and the pair headed for the fireplace.

"Do you think it's bad or good?" she worriedly began, "Merlin, it must be Della. I hope she's alright. I'm sure we didn't do anything wrong in the potion, so what's the worst that could happen?" Her eyes widened, "never a good question to ask."

Taking her firmly by the shoulders, Draco spun her around and looked her in the eye: the hazel eyes that were swimming with worry and anticipation. Having long been able to conceal his emotions, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Only one way to find out," he smirked. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Damn you, Draco Malfoy!" she uttered. Taking a pinch of Floo powder, he tossed it into the fireplace.

"Been there, done that," another smirk, "St. Mungo's Hospital!" He disappeared with a burst of green, Hermione following soon thereafter.

x-x-x

"Mr. Malfoy? Miss Granger?" a young receptionist eagerly waved them over towards the reception desk. She smiled brightly up at them.

"I've been instructed to give you this," she said, handing Draco a slip of parchment with a few lines of writing on it. Hermione peered over his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of it.

"It's just how to get to Fletchley's room, come on," he motioned his head towards one of the hallways, "let's pay her a visit."

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy!" They were in the hall of rooms where Della Fletchley was. A middle-aged Healer smiled at them and gave a little wave. Hermione smiled hesitantly back and Draco tilted his head.

"Who the bloody hell was that?" he muttered near her ear. She stopped a moment, feeling his breath on her face, before shrugging and responding.

"No clue." A blonde technician nodded at them,

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger," she smiled. After she passed, Hermione and Draco glanced at each other.

"Do you know-"

"Never seen her."

They spotted Healer Monero walking towards them. As they got closer, they noticed an uncharacteristic sparkle in his eyes.

"Miss Granger. Mr. Malfoy. Come this way." They shared a look and followed him. He opened the Della's door and motioned for them to enter.

x-x-x

A ruffled grey owl pecked irritably at the closed window, effectively waking up Illaron Wicksby from his nap. Letting in his wife's owl, he untied the parchment attached to Acacia's leg and walked into the study.

"Connie, love, you may want to read this," he handed her the letter. She opened it slowly, her eyes rapidly scanning the parchment. She finished reading and looked up.

"Have you got your minions?" He asked her good-naturedly.

"He's agreed Illaron!" She leapt up from the chair and hug-tackled him. The atmosphere in the house immediately lightened and the elderly couple relaxed, feeling stress-free once more.

x-x-x

Hermione blinked. "Come again?" she asked, warily.

"It's worked, Hermione! It worked!!" an elated Della Fletchley told Hermione and Draco once again. Draco recovered first.

"Now, you realize this could be a temporary effect and there is no proof you've been cured completely," he ventured slowly.

"Yes, yes, I know, I've been told. Many times. Oh but can't you see??" She closed her eyes and inhaled and exhaled deeply. Hermione beamed before running over and enveloping Della in a hug. The two women laughed delightedly, a drifting melodious sound. Draco walked up to the bed, unsure of how to proceed. Della reached up and hugged him; Hermione smiled as he awkwardly returned the gesture.

"I'm… very happy for you, Mrs. Fletc-"

"Della." He nodded, a corner of his mouth turned upwards. Healer Monero, who had until this point remained quietly in a corner of the room, broke in.

"Congratulations, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," they received his sentiments with a polite grace.

"Now, how long will be before you can have more dosages of the potion?"

"Not long, about three days."

"Excellent; here are the release forms for an additional three patients," Monero handed them a file,  
"since it's only been a day."

"Very well, thank you Healer," Draco replied briskly, "we'll get right to that." With a nod, Healer Monero left the room.

"Must you be so short with him?"

"You know as well as I do that he can be a rude little bugger." Hermione pursed her lips a moment but chuckled.

"I'm choosing not to reply to that," she turned to the patient.

"Della, it was wonderful to see you." Della smiled widely.

"Promise you'll visit again!" They agreed and left to find a Mr. Thomas Reedson.

x-x-x

"It's this door. Finite a silencio," Draco uttered the charm.

"Ladies first," he gestured towards the still-closed door.

"How wonderfully considerate of you!" Hermione narrowed her eyes. As she opened the door quietly, she turned back to Draco, who was still in the corridor.

"Wait! We can finish sooner if we split up. Plus, I'm not doing all the talking. How 'bout you pick one of the other two patients and explain to them what they need to fill out, etc. Meet me in the lobby of this wing afterwards and then we can talk to the last patient."

Draco looked affronted, "who said you would be doing all the talking?"

"Well if you insist, I'm sure you'd like to talk to this lovely gentleman inside this here room." He peeked into the room.

"I'm good. See you in the lobby." He took the remaining files and strode in the opposite direction.

_Arse_, Hermione muttered humorously under her breath. Taking the small vial of cerulean potion out of her pocket for a moment and holding it up to the light, she smiled before carefully putting it back and turning to face a wispy-haired man in his sixties with his eyes narrowed at her suspiciously.

x-x-x

"So by getting three family members and myself to sign these papers, we're insuring that I can't sue you, St. Mungo's, and Miss…Greener-something-or-another for possibly poisoning me?" Draco gave a characteristic smirk.

"Exactly right Miss Cattermole." She leaned back on the pillows for a moment, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Well then, if this is the only chance I have, I'll take it. I didn't survive Voldemort to have a sodding hex make me kick the bucket."

"That's the spirit Miss-"

"Maisie. And I'll have the papers for you soon."

"Well then Miss Maisie, I shall see you then." She smiled and nodded, dark ponytail bobbing up and down. She watched the handsome, and obviously aristocratic, man leave her room, shutting the door behind him. With a soft sigh, Maisie Cattermole laid back down.

x-x-x

"Mr. Reedson?" Hermione ventured. The man gave a tiny tilt of his head but said nothing, continuing to observe her unflinchingly through eyes that appeared to be violet. She walked closer towards the bed.

"I'm Hermione Granger, a He-"

"You're that woman, aren't you?" Thomas Reedson finally spoke. His voice was scratchy and he had more wrinkles than one would expect at his age of sixty-two. Hermione paused, what does one say to that? Mr. Reedson didn't wait for her response.

"What was that ya put in your robe pocket, eh?" He raised a thick silvery-grey eyebrow, "before ya waltzed right on in here?"

"That, Mr. Reedson, is the reason I've come to talk to you."

"They already tol' me all that mumbo-jumbo. Lemme see this supposed cure." Hermione sighed, more amused than frustrated by the grumpy old man. Whispering a charm so that he could not open the vial and ingest the potion, she took out the precious container and held it out to him. His at-first expectant hand wavered, before he snatched the potion. He blinked, breaking eye contact for possibly the first time since she'd entered the room. He looked up at her, shock in his iris eyes.

"It-it was jus' like th-that color!" he whispered harshly, narrowing his eyes at her in contempt. The potion splashed around in the vial as he held it tightly in a shaking hand.

"I knew you're all upta no good! I knew it! Oh no, Anna din't believe me but I was right! Tha's the color!" His whispers had gotten louder and he was almost yelling. Hermione furrowed her brow and took a step away.

"Tha's the color! Yeah, go on. Get out! Leave!" He was outright yelling at her now. Bewildered, Hermione tried to reason with the suddenly angry man.

"Mr. Reedson, I have no ide-"

"Sure ya don't. Get outta my room!" One fist still around the vial, he began to grab things near the bedside and threw them towards her. A photo frame. A pen. Hermione ducked. What had triggered this!? Looking for her wand, she glanced up just in time to see a glass vase headed for her head. Missing it by mere centimeters, Mr. Reedson leaned forward, heavily wheezing and coughing but scowling at her nonetheless. He fumbled around the bedside table and before he could find something else to throw, Hermione decided it was time to hightail it out of there.

"Yeah, you leave! And take your devil potion with ya!!" He threw the potion at her. As if in slow motion, she swiveled around mid-stride to see the vial hit the ground and shatter, the blue contents splattering everywhere. The contents on the floor began to steam and a light smoke filled the room. Reedson's coughing fit ceased for a moment but promptly resumed as the smoke cleared. Hermione gave one fleeting last look towards the disaster zone before burying her face in a robe sleeve and leaving the room.

After informing a staff member to check up on the Reedson, she walked briskly to the lobby where she was supposed to meet Draco. Dear Merlin, she hoped _he_ had accomplished something!

x-x-x

Flipping through the pages of an old…no, ancient edition of _Which Broomstick?_ Draco glanced up at the clock. He'd been here for ten minutes now, had she gone and gotten lost? Tired of looking through Comets and Nimbuses, he lightly tossed the magazine back onto the side table. Not interested in even pretending to read _The Practical Potioneer _issue of 1982, his attention, as well as that of all others in the lobby, was drawn to a sudden slight burning smell. Draco looked up to find Hermione slightly breathless with burn marks on her robes. He looked her up and down with an inquiring expression.

"Care to explain?" She looked as if there was nothing else she'd rather do. Taking a seat in the chair next to him- the other people in the lobby had gone back to their own business- she hurriedly began to explain.

"And so this man is now _completely_ incensed by something; he starts throwing stuff at me: a vase, a pen, a photo frame! Oh don't look at me like that!" Hermione huffed.

"And the singed robe?" He noticed it was already beginning to mend itself. Nifty.

"So as I'm leaving, he throws the bloody potion at me. It hits the ground, shatters, and smokes. The smoke seemed to silence him for a moment but then it cleared," she finished, leaning back into the chair and folding her arms.

"You didn't put an anti-shatter charm on the potion?" A look that could give Snape a run for his money.

She rolled her eyes, "_obviously_ not, I thought you had already."

"It probably wore off," he shrugged to an incredulous Hermione.

"Anyways, he must've been suspicious because he seemed convinced that we were "upta no good" but he kept pointing out the color of the potion. _Tha's the color_ he said. She mulled it over. Draco furrowed his brow, only slightly of course.

"He's probably senile; maybe the hex and being at St. Mungo's has made him paranoid."

"Maybe," Hermione obviously didn't feel this was the case though.

"We could ask Fletchley. Maybe she noticed something too, if only slightly."

"That may be the smartest thing you've said thus far," she smiled at him, "be right back." He scoffed, "I resent that Granger!" She had already dashed off. He chuckled, before glaring at _The_ _Practical Potioneer_ of July 1982.

x-x-x

"Della!" Hermione stuck her head into the room, surprising her.

"Hermione! I didn't mean you had to visit me so soon!" she joked.

"Della, did you notice anything unusual about the potion…? The color…?" The patient twiddled her thumbs for a moment.

"Now that you mention it, the color seemed vaguely familiar but I can't quite put my finger on it," she frowned, "sorry."

"That's all I needed, Della, I'll talk to you later!" And she disappeared from the room again. Della chuckled but found herself to be feeling rather tired.

x-x-x

"Reedson's not insane; Della noticed something about the color too." Hermione's sudden arrival interrupted Draco's begrudged reading of "Liverwort, Liverroot, and Liverpea: What You Need to Know!"

"I still wouldn't be so confident in regards to his sanity but that's nonetheless reassuring," he smirked.

"Oh, come off it. What could the color have to do with anything?" They sat in silence for a few moments.

"If we are to do nothing else here at Mungo's, may I suggest leaving for the estate? We can start the potion then. Ah yes, and Miss Maisie Cattermole would be happy to be of assistance to us." Hermione's eyes widened.

"Oh, I'm sorry; that completely slipped my mind! I'm glad at least you accomplished something." As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew to expect a smart remark from him.

"At _least_ I did." Right on cue.

"Let's head back. As for the third patient, well, I'm not sure I want to risk another vase to my head today."

x-x-x

**Hope you liked! Hopefully I'll be able to get another chapter out within the month. **

**Review por favor!!  
Merci!**

**Lurves  
--Jadyn**


	13. Something wicked this way comes

**-sigh- I had wanted to put up an update for the one-year anniversary of the story but I missed the date by three days... ): My apologies. Can't believe it's been a _year _already...! It's a nice lengthy chapter and getting a little more intense, haha a whole twelve chapters later. Alas, there are only a few weeks of summer left... With any luck, I'll manage another update before then. _Until _then... get to reading!  
**

_Disclaimer: Surprise! HP is not mine. Neither is the book title I used for the chapter name.  
_

x-x-x

"Eleven ounces of salamander blood," he murmured. Hermione handed the bottle to him when there was a quick insistent rapping on the library door. A nervously fidgeting Tibby stood in the doorway.

"I knows Master is telling Tibby not to be interrupting when he and Miss Hermione is working but there is being a man in the fireplace who is wanting to talk to you, Master. And Miss Hermione too," Tibby looked up hesitantly.

"Very well, Tibby. You are dismissed," he turned to Hermione.

"I know. One of us has to tend to the potion. Go. Bring back good news!" She sent him off with a distracted wave before becoming immersed in steadily stirring the potion.

x-x-x

Draco looked down into the fireplace to find Healer Davies, as solemn as usual but a little less bright-eyed. He nodded to him.

"Ah hello Mr. Malfoy." A pause.

"Well, no need to beat around the tree, er, bush. It's about Mrs. Fletchley." _Points for being direct_, Draco thought. He raised an eyebrow to voice his thoughts.

"Yes, well…She's experienced a relapse. The symptoms have all returned full force and her condition is identical to that of a few days ago. There's…" The rest of what Davies continued to talk about was lost on Draco. _Aw, fuck_ ran fairly consistently through his mind. There was less than a day left in the potion they were brewing and Hermione would be… He sighed heavily and was brought back by the Healer whose head still remained in the fireplace.

"Mr. Malfoy? So if you would just let Miss Granger know. You are both welcome to come visit her any time you'd like." Knowing full well that anything else he said would be lost on the blonde wizard, Healer Davies gave a last nod before disappearing.

As Draco opened the double doors of the library, Hermione looked up with a smile that promptly fell upon seeing his stony face. Granted, his face was generally fairly stony but she had come to know the differences.

"What is it?" she prompted. Draco paused a moment and decided that the best course of action would be short, sweet, and to the point. _Sans the sweet part_, he noted darkly.

"Relapse." He waited tensely for her response. He saw her swallow once before she bit her lip.

"Are we allowed to see her?" she asked softly, heading for the door. He gave her a hollow smirk; even if he told her she'd have to battle venom-spitting, fire-breathing, two-headed livid wyverns, they both knew it wouldn't matter how he answered her question. _Did she want him to follow her?_ He didn't want to seem like a cold-hearted bastard or anything. Oh wait, she already knew that was his part-time job. She shook her head, as if sensing his indecision.

"Stay; I won't be long." With a last strained smile, she disappeared out the door and he turned back to potion._ Damn defective potion_, he vanished it with a flick of his wand.

x-x-x

The fireplace flared up and Hermione stepped out, brushing some soot from her robes.

"Draco?" she called out, walking to the family room area. He stuck his head out of his study and followed the sound of her voice.

"Emme?"

"Oh!" she spun around quickly to face him. She stood fraught with tension, an arm's reach in front of him. At first, Draco had been surprised by the lack of puffy red eyes, shaky voice, and fist full of tissues. Now that he was closer, he noticed her eyes gave away her emotions more than ever– warm, hazel, and bright with unshed tears. He wouldn't ask, but made a silent promise to listen. She gave him a tiny little smile.

"It's hard," she said quietly, but steadily.

As Draco Malfoy thought back to the first time he'd met her at eleven years of age until now, where they stood face to face in his kitchen, he realized that there were few people he respected as much as Hermione Granger. Startled –more so by his easy acceptance than the notion– he leaned forward and brushed his lips on her forehead. He felt her tense, then become almost rigid when he put his hands on her shoulders and steered her towards the wooden porch swing: one of her favorite places to retreat. Hermione sat down willingly and he took a spot beside her, close but not touching. She scooted over a little and side by side, they rocked gently on the swing, seeing, absorbing, and thinking different things but feeling quite the same. Savoring a brief moment of quiet and of peace before facing reality once more.

x-x-x

When Maisie Cattermole was administered the next of Figg's potions the following day, the results were no more promising and nearly exactly the same. One of his potions remained.

"Last patient to test. Is there a name?"

"None given," he scanned the clipboard, "says something about the bloke wanting privacy." As she opened the door, Hermione froze: heart in her throat, she dared not believe her eyes until her thoughts were confirmed.

"Pr-Professor Flitwick?"

x-x-x

The figure entered St. Mungo's with purposeful strides. He'd charmed his hair color and height and wore navy robes. The days of hooded black robes were long over. If you were daft enough to dress like the Grim Reaper, there was no doubt you'd get pulled over and shipped to the Ministry for questioning. The Granger-Malfoy pair had been easy enough to track down; a shame it hadn't been more of a challenge. He handed the receptionist the folded and sealed parchment. A pointed look under a debonair grin assured him that the letter would reach its intended recipients. Satisfied, the visitor made his way to the apparation point and disapparated.

x-x-x

He seemed even smaller than usual, sitting in the metal gurney. Like infirmities tend to do, the hex had aged the tiny Charms professor to a wisp of an old man. He blinked.

"Why, Merlin's beard! If it isn't Miss Granger! And… Mr. Malfoy as well!" he rasped, almost, almost brightly. _Hogwarts…Charms…Swish and flick!...Wingardium Leviosa…_ Hermione reeled. She had gotten so detached from her previous lifestyle during their work that apart from Draco, she'd never expected for "Mione" to meet "Granger." She quickly glanced towards Draco, face expertly emotionless and grey eyes granite.

"Professor, it's so nice to see you again! Not, of course, to see you ill but to see you. Face to face here. Not like in, St. Mungo's, but-" she rambled, overwhelmed at the situation.

"What she means to say, sir, is that while conditions are less than ideal, it is nice to make a familiar acquaintance." Hermione's cheeks flushed pink.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, it is very nice to see you both as well –such prominent and accomplished adults you've become!"

"Thank you Professor. From the both of us."

"I don't suppose we'll have to explain anything to you, sir." The tiny professor shook his head.

"You suppose correct, Mr. Malfoy. I commend the two of you. I was unable to find but a single book, even with my diagnosis. I could not think of any two people to better entrust to this," he wheezed, briefly pulling an oxygen mask to his face.

"Professor, do you remember being hit by any stray curses from, say, the Rebellion?"

"Ah yes, I went back to my Pensieve and spotted one bluish light, from yes, quelling the Rebellion a year or so back." Hermione and Draco met eyes; that made sense.

"I had thought it'd been performed incorrectly, as except for a temporary distraction, it had no immediate effect." _Perfect match_. "And I am no longer your professor, Miss Granger," he smiled. She returned it sadly.

"Sir, _what_ color did you say the hex was?" Draco prompted.

"A blue, of sorts. Quite bright really." Hermione gave him a subtly confused look before her eyes lit up.

"Blue…as in-"

"The color of each of Figg's potions."

"Which is why-"

"It looked familiar to the other patients."

"But they weren't sure-"

"Since it was a year ago." Hermione's face lit up and Draco smirked.

"Why, you two are getting along splendidly!" Flitwick beamed. They were instantly self-conscious.

"Professor, you may have just given us what we've been missing…"

x-x-x

They faced each other in the family room, quill and blank parchment ready.

"So what Figg was trying to do with the potions was imitate the color of the Hex," Hermione mulled.

"A million Galleons says that if we get the color exactly, it'd be the cure."

"So we'll ask Profes…Flitwick tomorrow if we can see his Pensieve." Draco shook his head.

"Not accurate enough. He only glimpsed it," he stopped, hoping she'd catch his drift soon enough. A pause.

"You aren't suggesting that-"

"-we need to learn it and use _our_ memory." She opened her mouth to argue but shut it as she saw his expression. Hermione swallowed lightly before continuing.

"Do you have a room we can practice in?"

He walked to his study, Hermione following. She gaped as she walked in. She'd never taken the time to come into this particular room. The furniture was a dark walnut- bookshelves and display cases all ceiling height, artfully put together with a combination of books, sculptures, and trinkets from around the world. A model castle, despite being half-finished, stood proudly on one of the shelves. The arched- almost domed- roof opened up the room and part of it seemed to be glass. Like the Great Hall at Hogwarts, you could look up and see the sky. A thick area rug covered most of the floor, one that Hermione was almost afraid to step on for ruining its seeming sanctity. She walked over to a sizable hand-carved desk topped with glass, close to a stand where his owl was perched. Hermione gently ran her fingers over the desk.

"My great grandparents made it together," Draco remarked.

"It's beautiful. The whole room. Your home, really." She reached over to pet Orvidius, the owl, who eyed her imperiously.

"Careful, he-" But the owl only hooted softly. Draco tilted his head a bit. _Huh_. Meanwhile, Hermione had come out of her slight daze.

"Surely you're not suggesting we practice in here?" Draco shook his head before ducking into the fireplace and muttering a short spell that suddenly made the fireplace much longer, about the length and width of a small closet. A quiet creaking noise.

"Draco?" He motioned with his hand for her to follow. After she stooped down to fit into the fireplace, she noticed a small door had appeared on the left of the inside of the fireplace. She crawled through it and was surprised, and relieved, to find that the ceiling had returned to a reasonable height. After three turns and seven stairs, they'd reached a large and empty room, perhaps five metres square, with nothing in it except a small shelf filled with random objects-like a quill, a small stool, a tea cup- and a large ceiling light. Noticing Hermione's confused expression, Draco explained.

"Kind of like the Room of Requirements, except you have to transfigure the things over there into what you need. Not as easy, but I think you'll be able to handle it." He smirked. She tried to refrain from rolling her eyes. And failed. They transfigured a few candy wrappers into sturdy flame-retardant targets.

"So now we just need Dolohov's notes." They stared at each other for a moment, each mentally willing the other to go and get them. Draco decided to transfigure a tea cup into an armchair while he waited. Hermione, not to be outdone, made a dictionary into a huge beanbag. This was met with Draco's exclamation of "What the bloody hell is that?!" He then made the saucer into a matching ottoman.

"Clever," Hermione noted; she took a small bouncy ball and turned it into one of her favorite reads, _Pride and Prejudice_. (A/N: No, this is _not_ meant to be a clue towards a parallel of sorts. **;P** ) Draco's eyes widened. You can't leave Hermione Granger with a _book_! He Accio-ed the novel and turned it into a sparkling glass, which he filled using _Aguamenti_. He then proceeded to take a delicate but exaggerated sip from the glass. Hermione gave him an incensed look before deciding to turn his ottoman into a little puppy plushie, which she charmed to run around and bark as well. Startled, Draco almost stepped on the puppy before snatching it up and turning it into a down pillow, which he charmed to repeatedly whack Hermione.

"Augkh!" she managed to shout between being hit by the pillow. If she'd taken the time to look past the offending object, she would've seen a grin lighting up Draco Malfoy's face, rare given their situation and made rarer given his personality. It hadn't been a careless expression on his part. It had started as an entertained smirk, which he'd allowed to become a smile: after all, only _he_ would know. She was too busy swatting the pillow. Once she tried to catch the pillow-which kept dodging out of her way- he found he could hardly stop his amusement from showing, especially when a few feathers escaped from the pillow. Suddenly, Hermione changed tactics and decided to run from the pillow. It followed her, feathers flying out from it. Like bees on honey.

Draco Malfoy laughed: stomach-aching, breath-catching laughter. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so…

so…

…

well, happy. Not ha-you-fell-for-my-conniving-trick-and-are-fucked-now! happy but just little-kid, ice-cream cone, hug-giving happy. Mind you, he wasn't about to give anyone a bloody _hug_. If Hermione hadn't by now noticed his amusement, his laugh stopped her in her tracks. It was a sound she'd never heard, in more ways than one. Smooth and flowing, distinctly masculine. Her face lit up. By now, the pillow was nothing more than casing: the feathers were everywhere. She grabbed the casing easily and their eyes met, each taking in the other. Draco cleared his throat.

"Alright, I'm going to be honest with you. I'm using my last reserves of self-control to stop myself from thoroughly snogging your bushy-and feathery- head," her eyes widened but she didn't hex him so he continued.

"Now, it would be a true shame if I lost all of that control and I won't bore you with the details but for some people, it's not snogging we want to prevent. Anyways, out of respect for you, and because I know your tendency to triple psychoanalyze…" he left his thought open-ended. He smirked as he imagined the wheels and cogs in her head spinning out of control.

Hermione blinked. Was he serious…? Reason and logic had deserted her in that crucial moment. Behind his smirk, she could see that he was sincere. In fact, she quite liked this Draco Malfoy. There was-

"You're ruining the moment by thinking, love," he interjected. That did it. Good-bye reason, adieu rationale, auf Wiedersehen Hermione's brain!

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked. Good thing she no longer possessed her brain because otherwise it might've been throwing around explosives in her head. Draco smirked before grabbing her and pulling her close. Their lips met in a frenzied and ardent kiss, more excited than sensitive. (_Now use your imagination to come up with the next twenty seconds of their snog session._ **(: **) Nope, her brain was still there and it was launching the explosives everywhere on rapid-fire. They pulled away breathlessly.

"You're quite delicious," Draco pronounced, feeling quite bold. Hermione ran her tongue over her lips.

"You're not so bad yourself," she agreed, a mischievous smile playing on her face. Their lips locked once more, this time more tender and relaxed. (_More imagination time! But keep it under control, snogging __**only**_. **;) **) Suddenly Hermione fell backwards onto the beanbag she'd transfigured, Draco falling with her. She tried to squirm away from under him.

"Move over, you Hippogriff!" she shoved lightly.

"Hippogriff?! I think I quite like this position. But you do have to… erm… stop the squirming if you want it to stop here." Hermione froze in place as he made a tiny grimace.

"Sorry!" she said meekly. They situated themselves side-by-side on the giant beanbag and it was quiet for a moment.

Hermione turned to face him, "Draco?" she asked, lip stuck out a tiny bit in a teensy pout. He turned over.

"You've changed your mind? You would love for me to ravish you?" he offered. She gave him a smirk much like his own.

"You're getting Dolohov's papers," she turned back with a small smile at his frustrated huff.

But a wave of guilt suddenly assaulted Hermione. Here she was, having pillow fights and snogging her coworker/room housemate/something else she didn't want to think about yet, when they were supposed to working on life-saving research. Especially when that research involved a couple dozen lives and had just gotten personal. The tension she had managed to let go of for a few minutes returned and Draco noticed. He responded by summoning a candy wrapper and transfiguring it into a rubber band.

"Malfoy, stop it," Hermione reprimanded dully. Draco ignored her and repeated the action with another candy wrapper. He held one rubber band in each hand, one pink and one blue.

"This is me," he announced. He picked up the blue one and held it between his thumb and index finger. He stretched it a little bit before letting it hang loose again, and repeated the action a few times. He then picked up the pink one.

"This is you." He stretched it slowly, occasionally giving it some slack but pulling it further and further outwards. Finally, it snapped. He held the two pieces, one in each hand.

"That's what is going to happen to you, which would be quite unfortunate since I'm actually starting to like you and would hate to employ house-elf labor clean up your entrails," he smirked. Hermione gave him a weak chuckle.

"Thanks, Draco. Thanks."

x-x-x

Draco ended up calling Wilby, much to Hermione's chagrin, to get the notes. Wilby came with a tray of snacks and drinks as well. Hermione made another replica and stored the originals in the teacup-armchair now gone traveling trunk. With a resigned look, they took on learning that which they were trying to eradicate.

x-x-x

"Draco! Malfoy! Draco!" he turned to look at her amusedly. She was wearing the same smile he remembered, and had hated, from Hogwarts when she accomplished something twenty minutes before everyone else had started to read the instructions.

"I think I've got it!" her eyes were bright and eager. Draco thought it was funny that she could get this excited over new spell casting. He humored her.

"Well?" She turned to the target and concentrated for a moment. With a complex wave of her wand and the incantation, a bright and deep blue ray of light burst from the tip of her wand and hit the target, which smoked as the hex was absorbed. He faced the target and fired off the hex at it as well. The same color light came from the tip of his wand as well. Hermione looked surprised.

"You already got it?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Came pretty easy to me."

"How long ago?"

"Five minutes, more or less."

"Oh." She was impressed. Hermione had underestimated him. Again. A life of being the "brightest witch of her age" had had an effect on her confidence, however modest and unassuming she tended to think herself to be. She shook her head once to clear it.

"So. A Pensieve."

"Right this way." They left the room and took a few different turns down different hallways before they found themselves in a store room stocked to the brim with little gadgets, vials, and a few other odds and ends. Some things were balanced precariously on glass shelves and Hermione was afraid to sneeze.

"You have a bloody labyrinth beneath your house," she whispered.

"You can talk, you know."

"You say that now." He smiled wryly at her. Walking over to a small white marble basin, Draco peered inside.

"Empty. Perfect." The Pensieve was levitated back to the room; Hermione trailed close behind Draco so as not to get lost. Each performed the hex once more and carefully put the memory into the marble Pensieve.

"To the library then…?"

"To the library."

x-x-x

An owl with the St. Mungo's tag around its leg hovering outside the kitchen window interrupted Draco from his fridge raid. Hermione had already gone up to draft some notes for the potions. He let the owl in and untied the parchment, feeling a strange tingle, and distractedly put a few knuts in the owl's delivery pouch before it flew off. Odd, the letter was not printed on the hospital stationary–as had been mandated a few years back- but delivered by their owl. He performed a quick charm to check for hexes. During the War, one letter resulted in his receiving a nasty assault of blisters on his hands, an experience he'd rather not repeat. Unrolling the parchment, he found it to be oddly blank, before words in a neat and pointed script began to appear.

_Draco Malfoy. _

_A most bothersome group, you Malfoys are._

_You see, as much as I congratulate you on finally doing something with your pathetic life, I'm afraid you're going to have to stop what you're working on._

_The Hex. _

_Why?_

_Why should you listen to what a mere letter says? If not for the fact that you are currently leaning against your kitchen table wearing black robes pressed by your House Elf Wilby, nor the fact that the top button of your robes is undone, nor even the fact you can see the stables and part of the forest from where you are standing in your house, then because you have a fairly innocent party upstairs in your library. Given that she too, stops her research._

_You will tell her to do so, of course._

Draco's frame was rigid, his icy eyes narrowed as he glared at the offending letter he held. He fingered the wand in his robes and glanced around. They were not in his house; that much was positive. These were no average wards. _How_, then, were they doing this? More words appeared.

_You, Draco Malfoy, are a coward._

He emitted a low growl. No. He refused to deal with that again. _Lucius, The Dark L-Voldemort, Bellatrix, Potter, Severus…_he massaged the bridge of his nose momentarily as a calming effect, which was ruined by his clamped jaws.

_I think we've had enough for today, Malfoy. Come now, don't make this too hard on either of us. Stop your work, convince the bushy-headed mudblood to do the same, and we can go our own merry ways._

_Cordially for now,  
X_

Was this a joke? A serious threat? He, or rather, they had not made any new enemies as far as he was aware of. Obviously this person knew things he'd rather they didn't. He self-consciously fixed the top button of his robe. Someone in or out of St. Mungo's? Why the hospital owl? Tracking reasons, he supposed.

Draco carefully regarded the letter. It'd had a magical feel to it as the words on it were appearing but now felt nothing more than just parchment. Burn it? He deliberated it for a moment and decided against it. He had too many questions and if he threw it into the fireplace, he knew he'd regret it later. What w–

"Draco?" Hermione's voice sounded from the library. _Shit_. Grabbing a half-opened package of pastries from the pantry, he shoved one into his mouth before racing towards his study. Carefully pulling a hidden lever in his desk, a small compartment slid out. He tucked the letter inside before heading upstairs.

"Oh, hello! What took you so long?" Hermione peered up from a fairly large tome. Draco licked a few crumbs from his lips and shuffled all thoughts concerning the letter to the back of his mind for the moment. _Oh, just received a mysterious threatening letter that appeared to have been spying on me telling us to stop what we're doing or face unnamed consequences._

"Couldn't decide what I wanted," he shrugged, "pastry?" he held the package out to her. She gave him a funny look before taking the proffered snack and popping it into her mouth.

x-x-x

**Hope you enjoyed it! No responses last time; PLEASE REVIEW!! (:  
**

**Lurves!**  
**--Jadyn**


	14. Strike two

**Yes, it's _really _happening. This fic is being UPDATED!! -smiles innocently- I know, it's literally been months. It's thanks to winter break that I managed to work up the productivity and time to get this out. Unfortunately, said break ends tomorrow. I do semi-have plans as to where this is going though! (: Hmm, oh, HAPPY NEW YEAR! Not too much else to get out there so get to reading...!  
**

_Disclaimer: HP = not mine_.

x-x-x

**In case you forgot, end of chapter 12 was as follows:**

"Oh, hello! What took you so long?" Hermione peered up from a fairly large tome. Draco licked a few crumbs from his lips and shuffled all thoughts concerning the letter to the back of his mind for the moment. _Oh, just received a mysterious threatening letter that appeared to have been spying on me telling us to stop what we're doing or face unnamed consequences._

"Couldn't decide what I wanted," he shrugged, "pastry?" he held the package out to her. She gave him a funny look before taking the proffered snack and popping it into her mouth.

x-x-x

"I'm beginning to get very sick of this bloody color," Draco decided. Hermione nodded once in reluctant agreement. They'd come up with two new potions and were comparing them to Figg's. Over the past three days, Draco had not been able to keep the letter out of his mind, but was beyond relieved that they had not received any others. He must have hid his concern well enough for Hermione didn't seem to notice anything unusual about his behavior. He was slightly wrong on that account.

Draco had been acting kind of well, restless, since he had come back from his prolonged kitchen raid a few days prior, Hermione thought. It was subtle. Things like sensitivity to any noise she made. He would look around and then at her, whether it was just the sound of moving a bottle of potions ingredients or shifting books around. She could feel glances in her direction more often and when she looked up to meet them, he held the gaze for a moment, his eyes unreadable but not hostile, before returning to work. Unable to come up with anything logical, Hermione credited it to an overactive imagination.

"Is it possible to bottle a spell?" Hermione mused. Draco furrowed his brow a moment.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, if we could bring a vial into the Pensieve and hold it where the hex would hit the target, would the hex shatter the glass or stay in it? If we could stopper the vial fast enough? That would make it easier and more accurate to compare the potions."

"It's worth a try, I suppose. Is it possible to get hit with a spell from a Pensieve?"

"I don't think so. But we should probably try something like _Stupefy _first just in case." As they made their way down to the study with the potions, Draco's chest suddenly tightened. A tiny owl fluttered outside the living room window but he was too far from it to see whether or not it came from Mungo's, or the, well, mad stalker. Hermione was right behind him. He had stopped mid-step and she almost ran into him.  
"What on-?" She followed his gaze to the window and her eyebrows rose.

"Oh?" Hermione walked towards the window to let the owl in. _Shit_. He walked briskly to catch up to her, heart pounding and eyes focused on the owl. _Don't let it be another one. Don't let it be another one. Don't mention the first letter. Don't let it be another one._ It ran through his head like a mantra; maybe if he thought it enough times, it would work. He quietly whispered a temporary Sticking charm so that she couldn't open the window.

"Ugh. I think your window's stuck," she frowned, turning to face his stone grey eyes. She gave him a peculiar look, sensing his taut manner as he brushed by her to open the window.

"Is something the matter?" she queried. Draco turned to look at her.

"Nothing at all." He gave her a somewhat tight smile and pulled the window open. A characteristic smirk graced his face.

"Good thing you've got me here now, isn't it?" he joked, trying to lighten the mood but failing to hide his terseness. He reached out for the little owl, which to his horror, flew straight to Hermione.

"Here, lemme-" he began.

"Pig!" Hermione grinned, petting the tiny Weasley owl. She took the letter from the owl's leg.

"Whose…owl is it?" Draco ventured.

"Ron's. Oh! It's a letter from him!" She quickly unrolled the parchment. Draco exhaled deeply.

Disaster averted. So why was he still tense? He watched Hermione quickly read the letter.

_Hello Hermione!_

_Hope Pig got this to you in one piece. I heard that you're working on a research project, or something of that nature, for St. Mungo's. Can't get enough of it, can you Mione? However, Harry only revealed to me but hours ago that you've got a partner for the assignment. _Malfoy_. I didn't believe him. I thought "Mione would _never_ agree to working with Malfoy!" For some reason, he was alright with it so would you please set him straight? Thanks, Mione. _

_In other news, Miranda and I are doing very well. She's been wanting to meet you for quite some time now. You're not avoiding us now, are you? Just kidding. She's planning a dinner for the three of us plus Harry and Ginny and says details will come within the next week or so. Hope you've been doing well and waiting to hear from you!_

_Love,_

_Ron_

A small frown tugged at Hermione's lips. Of course, Ron would have a near impossible time accepting the fact that Draco was working with her. Still, his reaction could've been worse, she decided. It seemed like… she looked at the letter again, Miranda, might be in it for the long run. She smiled, slightly surprised but happy for Ron. She then noticed a postscript after he'd signed his name.

_P.S. Bloody hell Hermione, have you gone MAD!?! It's MALFOY! What are you thinking associating with the likes of him!!?!?! Do you remember exactly who the bloody git is?!?_ _I hope you have a bloody_ _good_ _explanation for this. _

Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. She was surprised he'd managed to confine his temper to the postscript in the first place. Her train of thought was interrupted by an excited Wilby.

"Miss Hermione! There is the Mr. Harry Potter in the Floo! He is wanting to talk to you!!" Hermione thanked Wilby and groaned lightly. Draco stood unnoticed in the background as she went to the living room.

"Hi Harry!" she greeted him, kneeling down by the fireplace.

"Mione! You haven't heard from Ron yet, have you? Because he was over-" Hermione waved the letter and chuckled.

"You're a bit late, Harry." She held out the letter for him to read. He looked worried for a moment but soon his eyes sparkled good-naturedly as he skimmed the parchment.

"Well, be glad he didn't floo to your apartment to find it empty," he half-heartedly tried to give her a reproving glare. Her eyes widened.

"You don't think he would…"

"Probably not."

"Don't curse my luck, Harry," she smiled at her messy-haired friend. He tried to peek around her shoulder for a sign of Draco.

"So," he spoke quietly, "how _is_ it going with Malfoy?"

"Good," Hermione replied, a light smile on her face. Harry said nothing about her change in disposition. He wondered if she herself, even knew.

"Well, floo if you need anything, Mione!"

"Bye Harry!" He grinned one last time before disappearing from the flames. Hermione gave a little huff. As if she needed Ron's dramatics right now. She would have to remember to write him a letter _soon_, before he did decide take more drastic measures. She found Draco standing a few steps behind her and gave a little squeak. He smirked lightly in amusement, reminded of the time he'd stuck his head into her room.  
"Merlin, Draco!" He shrugged.

"What did the Wease-," he paused, "_Weasley_ want?" Hermione smiled at his effort. She handed him the letter. Why not? He took it hesitantly and began to read. He was amused by Weasley at first, but as he finished the letter, sickened.

It didn't _matter_ how many charities he gave to, how many foundations he sponsored, or even how many bloody kittens he saved from trees. (Only one.) To almost all of Wizarding society, he would always be Draco sodding Malfoy: ex-Death Eater extraordinaire, arrogant, snobbish, spoiled bastard. He clenched his jaw. Well, fuck. them. There was only a handful. A select few that mattered to him but they were enough. He then noticed the brown-haired witch in front of him, peering at him anxiously with a furrowed brow.

And her. She would be enough. He gave a mirthless chuckle; he could just see his father, albeit dead, having an apoplexy in his grave.

Draco handed the letter back to Hermione. She had expected a smart remark about Ron from him but she could tell the letter had taken him somewhere else entirely. His gaze was unfocused and his slate grey eyes turbulent. She stood in front of him, uncertain of what to do. But soon he blinked and he was back as if he'd never been gone. Handing her the letter, Draco gave her an indiscernible look and left the room.

Hermione rushed after him.

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"What…what was…did something…well, are you alright?" They were in his study now and he turned around to face her.

"What's my name?" She gave him a look that indicated he sounded like a combination of daft and mad.

"Draco," she ventured slowly, questioningly.

"Draco…"

"…Malfoy?"

"Say it together," he probed.

"Draco. Malfoy." Hermione pronounced clearly and as confidently as she could, given the circumstances. A small wave of contentment washed over him. No scoffing, disdain, snarling, scorn, or contempt. He allowed himself a small smile.

"Thank you," he uttered, taking her hands within his and giving them a quick squeeze. Hermione blinked.

"You're…welcome?" Was he bipolar? A knock to the head? A fake? Cursed? Maybe he was replaced when she went to talk to Harry…? Her eyes widened. He noticed and decided to clear up some of her worries.

"It's me, I'm not a phony, hexed, cursed, or under a spell," she looked at him skeptically.

"You offered to clean the floors when you first came, something you have yet to complete." Hermione chuckled.

"As if!" He smirked.

x-x-x

They both peered into the silvery white liquid cloud of the marble Pensieve. They touched the material and were transported to three days ago, when they were practicing the Hex.

"This is eerie," Hermione noted, seeing two of each of them.

"Quick, a _Stupefy_," she stood to face him, an open target. He raised his wand and fired off the spell. To their dismay, the red light dissolved into the air soon after it left the tip of Draco's wand. When Draco held out a vial to try and capture the hex that memory–Hermione was casting, the blue light hit the target as if the bottle wasn't even there.

"We pretty much can't do anything then. We, and anything we bring or do in the Pensieve, is incorporeal; we're not really here," Hermione concluded dejectedly. They felt themselves suddenly leaving the memory and back in present time.

"Is it worth it? To try it right now?" Draco interjected.

"Try what?"

"Bottling a spell." Hermione's eyes lit up with the challenge. She took the vial out of her robe pocket and held it up. Wand aimed, Draco cast a _Stupefy_. It flew straight and true into the bottle that Hermione quickly made to stopper. Draco hastily dodged the half of the spell that managed to escape and ended up hitting the wall behind him. He flicked imaginary lint off of his shoulders and puffed out his chest.

"Still as talented as ever," he boasted. Hermione rolled her eyes but was too excited to do much more.

"Look!" She held up the glass vial, grinning.

"Well that was dreadfully… unimpressive," Draco drawled, an eyebrow raised skeptically. The vial was almost pulsing with the energy of the spell: its contents glowing red, almost like the inside of a Pensieve but much more, well, active. The light bounced around inside, a mesmerizing sight. Hermione's mouth made a small 'o' as the bottle began to quiver. Giving her only enough time to react with a small shriek, the glass shattered and the spell flew out in all directions.

"Bloody fuck!" Draco cursed, pulling a small shard of glass or two from his arm and shoulder.

"Do you know a good spell for-" He stopped mid-sentence, spotting Hermione's prone form.

"_Ennervate_." She moaned groggily upon being awoken.

"What on- ouch! Well _that_ turned out well," she frowned. Grimacing, she removed some of the glass shards, gently touching her face and neck and being thankful to find nothing embedded. All except one were superficial wounds: those she healed with a wave of her wand. A larger piece of the vial had made its way into her forearm. Hermione healed Draco's two cuts, giving him a wry smile at his luck, then stuck out her arm at him and turned her head.

"Alright, on the count of three," he prompted, "one…" He swiftly removed the glass. Hermione yelped but gave him a thankful smile. She put a small bandage on it and they cleaned up the shattered vial.

"Now we know why we've never heard of anyone trying to contain a spell in a bottle."

"What if we charmed the glass so that-" Hermione began.

"And if the Hex is the one to hit you next time instead?"

"Maybe using stone to contain it would be stronger?"

"Well for starters, we can't see through stone," Draco spoke as if explaining to a child, an amused smirk on his face. Hermione's cheeks flushed pink. Oops. He pulled one of the potion vials from his robes.

"Let's try our original plan," he suggested casually. They were about to touch the mist again when Hermione suddenly pulled his arm back.

"A camera!" she burst out.

"Dear Merlin, woman!" Draco was about to roll his eyes but paused.

"That might just work," he mused. He dashed upstairs and was back within two minutes with the black picture-shooting device.

"Third time's the charm," Draco remarked sardonically, as they entered the Pensieve again. Holding up their potions as the spell blazed past, they quickly snapped two pictures before swirling back out of the memory. Hermione held her breath as she looked at the camera screen. Play = Pictures…

"Yes!" she jumped up, her head hitting Draco's nose: he had been standing right behind her.

"Merlin almighty!" he cried, clutching his nose. She turned around hastily and her hands flew up to her mouth.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I completely forgot… here let me fix that," she murmured one spell to stop the bleeding and another to get rid of the throbbing. Draco gave a shake of his head to regain his unruffled composure, to which Hermione laughed lightly. Only momentarily deterred, she held up the pictures for him to see. His grey eyes hardened as he looked them over.  
"What is it?" Hermione looked at the pictures again anxiously.

"We weren't even close," he muttered. The first potion they'd brewed was at least two shades too light in color; the second was opaque, not the clear blue of the hex.

"Oh, that's it?" Hermione gave a light sight of relief.

"Yes, that's it. We could spend any number of _years_ trying to get this right but the photos are alright," he scoffed. She narrowed her eyes.

"What crawled up your arse and died?" He massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Nothing. Forget it."

"That's a dirty lie," she accused, partly kidding but mostly serious. Tibby's arrival saved Draco from further grilling.

"A Healer was just flooing in the fireplace asking for Master and Miss Hermione. Tibby was telling Sir Healer she would be right back with Master or Miss Hermione because Master and Miss Hermione is being busy working. Sir Healer just says to Tibby to be telling the Master and Mistress the following…" Tibby proclaimed squeakily. She blinked her large eyes before continuing.

"Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, although I have occasionally seen you at St. Mungo's over the past few weeks, it has been brought to my attention that we have neglected several of our scheduled two week appointments regarding your work on the Hex. You two are welcome any time this week but please give my secretary notice in advance. With that said, I hope to be seeing you shortly!" Tibby looked up at the two of them, anxiously awaiting a response.

Draco gave a tight-lipped nod, "thank you Tibby; you are excused."

"Fantastic," he muttered, once the house elf had disappeared. Hermione said nothing, briefly forgetting Draco's short-temperedness in the face of her own despondency. Her pride and self-image were already smarting from the humiliation of having to report that they'd come up with nothing in the past months helpful to the continually increasing number of victims.

"So what now?" Draco asked, a question as useless as it was grammatically incorrect.

"We keep at it," Hermione smiled humorlessly. She walked to the door of the room, then remembering that she did not, in fact, remember the way out of the underground labyrinth to his study.

"Erm, I'll write the hospital, you lead the way out."

x-x-x

"Can I use Orvidius to send the letter?" Hermione hollered up the stairs to the library where Draco was working with the ingredients for a new potion. A few seconds later a little green note zoomed towards her.

_No, get a broomstick and hand-deliver it within the hour._ was written in his narrow, flowing script. Rolling her eyes, Hermione took the rolled parchment and tied it to the regal owl's leg. It ruffled its feathers and gave her an uppity look but followed her obediently. Orvidius flew eagerly out an opened window and soon disappeared from sight.

x-x-x

As Hermione walked past through the living room, she noticed an envelope floating in the fireplace. She bent over to read the addressee, printed in a neat and pointed handwriting: _Mr. Malfoy._ Upon getting closer, the same handwriting that had written Draco's name began to write something else. _M-i-s…Miss Granger_ It stopped after the last "r" in her name. Hermione figured it might be a letter from St. Mungos. Reaching out to take the envelope from the fireplace, a glowing blue barrier stopped her. _Draco's bloody overload of wards,_ she realized. Racking her brain for a way to get around it, she hadn't noticed lights from the barrier swirl around her for a brief moment. Suddenly, the ward fell and the envelope dropped harmlessly to the ground.

Surprised, but more concerned with the envelope's contents, Hermione picked it up, finding it unsealed. Removing a single sheet of plain parchment revealed that it wasn't from St. Mungo's. She frowned; both sides of the page were blank. Suddenly, she felt the parchment tingle in her hands before writing began to appear in the same pointed script.

_Tut, tut, tut, Malfoy. I gave_ _you a whole week to-_

_Oh?_

_My apologies Miss Granger, look before you leap, hm? I see that you are not Mr. Malfoy. Pardon me, for he is a diminutive character I'd hate to compare you to, what with this being our first introduction. _

From the first syllable, Hermione's body had tensed. Her gut was telling her to torch the letter and run, but she felt compelled to keep reading, whatever the letter should contain. No, she would not leave her seat on the floor in front of the fireplace until the mysterious correspondent had signed off. Hands clutching the paper, she wet her dry lips and watched as more writing continued to emerge.

_Allow me to put it simply. _

_Over the past few months, yourself and Mr. Malfoy have been fiddling with business that isn't yours. That will be coming to an end._

_Please, do not insult either one of us with your confused expression. Why, it is as easy as sending a letter akin to the following:_

Healer Davies,

With our most heartfelt regrets, Mr. Malfoy and I cannot continue research on the Hex.

Sincerely,  
Miss Granger

_Why, if you wish, you may even take that little snippet and owl it to your dear Healer. I hope you will make this easy on the both of us and do what you are told. I will give you, and Malfoy, as I am feeling rather generous, three days to keep this little game nice and simple, consequence-free._

_Do not underestimate me, Miss Granger. You _will_ regret it. _

_XX_

Hermione took a deep quivering breath, rooted to the spot by a nasty combination of anxiety, shock, and dread. She knew that nothing could nor would stop her from finishing what they'd started; if it very well was the last thing she would do, she would discover the cure. Her mouth was dry and her fingers still clenched the parchment. One by one, she released them and the malevolent letter fluttered to the ground. Whoever the hell "XX" was could write as many letters and throw as many curses as they wanted, she had survived more than ten years of being Harry bloody Potter's friend and watched Voldemort fall with her help. Let them throw the _Crucio_s at her; she would take them standing!

Suddenly, Hermione remembered Draco, and the numerous references to him in the letter.

Whoever this witch or wizard was thought they were writing to Draco at first…how had they known it was her who had received it? As she thought back to when the letter had first been floating in the fireplace, her name had been added on to the front of the envelope only moments after she looked at it. Hermione swallowed. This wasn't your average wizard. She had dismissed the idea of the letter being a prank; the estate was unplottable and wards abundant. They had a reason, but what?

Abruptly, a fiery wave of fury began to flood Hermione. From the way the correspondent had started the letter, this was not the first one. She had no doubt that Dra- _Malfoy_, had received one as well. How long ago and why didn't he tell her if it so obviously pertained to _their_ work?

Racking her memory over the past few days, she managed to recall the probable moment. Draco had spent some twenty minutes downstairs "raiding the pantry" and come back a bit distant. Afterwards, he'd been slightly restless; it made sense _why_ now. And he'd had any time in the past _week_ to tell her. Hermione closed her eyes in an attempt to calm herself before she confronted him. She counted to ten…twenty…thirty… At sixty, she managed to hold her outrage to a point she felt was manageable.

Hermione slowly and deliberately ascended the stairs to the library. The minute she entered the doors, the temperature in the room seemed to drop fifteen degrees. Draco looked up from the books and felt his stomach clench. He instinctively raised his icy barrier of composure against the witch who seemed to crackle with electricity. Hermione's face was stony enough to rival his but her cheeks were flushed red and her normally bright hazel eyes darkened to a fiery brown. He knew even before he spotted the letter in her hands, what had happened in the past few minutes that had set her off like this. When Hermione discerned the fastest glint of horror pass through his slate grey eyes, she knew that he knew as well. Without preamble, she held out the parchment and uttered a single word.

"_Well_?"

x-x-x

**What'd you think? Reviews and comments ALWAYS appreciated!**

**Till next time ;)  
--Jadyn**


	15. Arguing and Waiting

**Hello all! Seems as if I'm only productive during breaks... sorry x100! But an update is here! -confetti- Although as you will see, our characters hardly have cause to celebrate. Hope I did/have been doing them at least some justice in their portrayals. Enjoy the read!  
**

**Oh, and to lemur130 (thanks for reviewing!): nope, drunk Pucey was just a little blurb where Draco gets to show his fantastically haughty self. **

_Disclaimer: If you've seen it before, I probably don't own it. _

x-x-x

_End of chapter 13:_

Without preamble, she held out the parchment and uttered a single word.

"Well?"

x-x-x

Draco slowly extended his arm to take the letter, half expecting a spell to come flying towards him. He inwardly groaned. Only Merlin could save him from her fury now. _Fuck_, he knew this would come back and bite him square on the arse. He slowly unfolded the parchment.

Hermione watched Draco cautiously take the letter from her hands. _Damn right, you should be nervous_, she intensified her glare. As his blue-grey eyes scanned the parchment, she made out an angry exhale and noticed his demeanor harden.

The letter was written in the same condescending manner as the first had been: insulting, haughty. He recognized the handwriting to be the same as well. But the signature. And how it had been delivered? Was it penned while the recipient read it, as the first one was? Too many questions and none he dared ask just yet. Folding the letter again, he handed it back to Hermione, meeting her fiery eyes with cool poise, despite his inner turmoil. But that was what Draco Malfoy did best.

"It's not the first," Hermione spoke first, in a manner that was sure, but barely composed. He didn't respond. She already knew the answer anyways.

"Why, didn't you tell me?"

"And send you into fits of apprehensive torment? Over a letter that may be a bloody stupid prank?" he half-lied easily.

"A _prank_?" she gave him a disbelieving look. "A _sodding_ _prank_ when…" Hermione skimmed the letter again before stopping abruptly.

"Where's the first one?" she demanded. Without breaking eye contact, he called for Wilby. The house elf arrived within seconds and Draco ordered him to bring him the letter in the silver drawer. The house elf nodded mutely, sensing the animosity in the room. Their gaze had neither broken nor decreased in intensity when Wilby returned with the first letter. Draco directed that he should hand it to Hermione then leave.

She unfolded the parchment, worn with creases from being opened many times. Her blood ran cold as she read its contents. When she spoke next, her voice was venomously quiet.

"Your –pardon my French, she added sardonically– fucking _house elf_ knew and you didn't feel it important or realistic enough to tell _me_," she referenced the letter, "the "bushy-headed _Mudblood_?" she spat out the word.

"I told the house elf _nothing_ and you _know_ it," he snarled, "he's the only one who knows of the compartment in my bloody desk."

"What else is in there? A death threat or two? Old pen pal letters with dear Voldy?" She knew she had overstepped the line that time, but was too incensed for contrition at the moment. Draco clenched his jaw; the bastard was _dead_ and still haunting him.

"I trusted you. For the first time in over a bloody decade of knowing you. What else are you hiding? Have you secretly got the cure? Were you the one that cast it on everyone?" His heart clenched at the past tense and his eyes hardened to steel. Suddenly he was furious as well. If she expected he would take all of this from her, she had another thing coming.

"Don't _ever_ accuse me of that again. _Ever_. It seems I was wrong about you as well, Granger. I thought you were forgiving, unassuming, _reasonable_! But the second you find out a single thing –and I swear on my pride that that _one_ letter is it– that could come _close_ to reaffirming your past beliefs, your Gryffindor ideal on black and white, good and evil, big bad Draco_ Malfoy_, every other bloody experience disappears with the wind. Is this the chance you've been waiting for? An easy escape from whatever revelations you've realized _here_? These past bloody _weeks_?"

"Put bloody Merlin in my place. What do you expect me to do? Oh, you just forgot. It's ok Draco, let's pretend you never had a week to think it over and tell me about a threat to us BOTH!" she shouted indignantly.

"Don't even try to pretend you wouldn't have done the same thing, because why, you're Hermione Granger! She who has the brains to save the bloody world. She can deal with a measly letter, why worry everyone else about it? Better to be the hero and keep the weight on your own shoulders! Potter-complex," he sneered.

"_Seriously!?_" she gaped at him. "You're trying to dodge the blame for something _clearly_ your own fault by acting as if _I_ did it?"

"No you bloody bint, so now it's a crime to defend myself? Should I just let you have a fucking free-for-all on yours truly?"

"Maybe that's what you need, to be knocked off of your high horse."

"That's rich, Granger, coming from you."

"Pray tell then, what should be my next course of action?"

"Hold your grudge as long as you want for all I care," and truth be told, he hoped it wouldn't be long at all, "but there seems to be more important things to do than argue when we've got _these_," he held up the letters. Hermione felt a blush come to her cheeks, which was thankfully unnoticeable as her face was still flushed with the aftermaths of anger. Draco sensed her humility though.

"Very well, let's get to it," she grated: a reluctant acquiescence.

"Tomorrow," he added.

"Tomorrow," she agreed coolly. Hermione shot him one last reproachful look, which he met with sangfroid detachment, before walking briskly to the door and disappearing behind it to Merlin-knows-where. Draco followed soon after and headed for the stables, unknowingly passing by Hermione, where she lay on the bed in her room, a lone tear of frustration falling down her cheek.

x-x-x

Draco worked to slowly regain his sense of calm, the horses sensed his agitation. It was too dangerous to ride just now, he was too unsettled and that he could admit. He found himself –voluntarily– sitting on the dirt, leaning against the stable. One of the mares poked her head out the window and nuzzled his hair. Draco took a shuddery breath.

In the past few weeks he'd taken at least a hundred steps forward, and now probably just as many back. He regretted hiding the letter in that it had lost him much of Hermione's trust. That it had saved her that week of worry, no. He'd do it again. The second letter had effectively extinguished the tiny flame in the back of his mind that somehow, it wasn't a real threat.

Draco glowered at the offending letter; he held in his hand the second one. He read it slowly a second time, more carefully than when Hermione had been glaring daggers at him and adrenaline had been rushing from the impending altercation.

The fucking sod had purposely made it so that there was no way Hermione wouldn't have known about the first one. He sighed, it wasn't as if he wouldn't have told her, but hearing it from him and not this "X" bloke would've made the following incident infinitely better. He peered closely at the letter just to make sure. He distinctly remembered that the first one had been signed with a single "x" but this one no doubt, had two. Overwhelmed, for his mind was running in far too many directions for any rational person's liking, he closed his eyes. Having regained his general outward composure, he got up and entered the stable. And then, he rode, trying to forget Hermione's accusations and their falling out.

x-x-x

Hermione clutched one of the many down pillows on the bed tightly. As the initial shock and horror wore off, she was filled instead, with a dull throbbing sensation. Why, why, _why_ hadn't he told her? She grabbed the crinkled letter from the bed and reread it, more carefully than she had when she had a million things waiting to spout off of her tongue and anger was wreaking its havoc.

She wasn't more than half way through when something hit her. The letter was written in a style so utterly insolent that it made her shudder, and it wasn't even directed towards her. Had Draco told her about it, there was no way in hell that he would've gotten away with not showing it to her: yes, she was stubborn to a fault. But if she were asked to give one unwavering truth about Draco Malfoy, it would probably be that his pride was indomitable. The manner of the letter would have been absolutely destructive towards it. So did his pride matter more than their…her safety?

She replayed their argument in her head, recalling his grey eyes icy with anger. She bit her lip ashamedly. She painstakingly admitted it was wrong of her to have used the Voldemort-Death Eater card. Did she believe her accusations for a minute? Never. The whole bloody argument could've been avoided if he hadn't hid the letter from her in the first place…! Such thoughts opened the door to a whole new onslaught of psychoanalyzing their row and an impending headache led her to groan. Rolling onto her back restlessly, she tried to catch an elusive few minutes of the blissful emptiness of sleep: something she'd find herself doing often in the days to come.

x-x-x

He leaned back in his high-backed plush velvet chair, chuckling with satisfaction. The Spying Charm he had placed on the parchment gave him a limited, but key view into Malfoy's meager house; perfect for stirring up fear and paranoia that they may not be safe where they were. He looked at a copy of the letter he had just written to the pair, laying harmlessly in front of him. He had no doubt its twin would be scrutinized, examined, and studied until the parchment fell apart. Ah, he missed this. Satisfied, he picked up a bottle of unnaturally orange liquor and went off to find Suzy, or Sally, or whatever the bloody hell her name was. He knew Malfoy and Granger wouldn't heed his warnings, and couldn't wait for three days to be up.

x-x-x

Dinner was a frigid affair: punctuated only by mundane snippets of speech such as "pass the salt… please." The clinking of silverware against china had become an unfamiliar noise in the past few weeks and was just as unwelcome. They had heard back from the hospital –both had been shock still as they saw the owl approach– and were to meet with Davies in two days time. Neither had the intention of telling the Healer about the letters: both too headstrong and proud, although Hermione might not admit the latter. That gave them two days to either rebuild what had been damaged or perfect the act of pretending so that the Healer wouldn't suspect anything.

x-x-x

Hermione stared listlessly as the neon green numbers on her alarm clock changed from 3:25 to 3:26. She'd given up trying to fall asleep two hours earlier: about the same time she'd fried her brain from thinking too much and still come to no major conclusions. Guilt had begun to gnaw at her stomach as her tired mind kept replaying the look of angry resentment that passed over Draco's face with her accusations. _Have you secretly got the cure? Were you the one that cast it on everyone?_ It was only spoken in anger! her conscience offered feebly.

Feeling increasingly restless, Hermione fumbled for her thick robe in the dark, wrapping it around herself and walking towards the French doors in her room. They opened silently and she slipped outside onto the balcony, peering into the darkness at the vast estate grounds. She could see the silhouette of the nearby forest and allowed the cold winter wind to envelop her for a moment before escaping back inside to the warmth of the house.

Letting her feet guide her, she found herself leaving her room, pausing in front of the elegant double doors that opened to the master bedroom: Draco's bedroom. Unable to work up the determination or courage to open the door, Hermione continued her midnight stroll until she'd made it to the library. She smiled wryly; of course she would end up here. Picking a bound red leather book whose title she didn't bother to note, she snatched a throw that had been carefully draped over a chair and curled up on the chaise, book in hand. Before the old grandfather clock in the library began its soft chime to signify 4:00, she'd fallen asleep.

x-x-x

3:38. He'd tried for the last three hours and thirty-eight minutes to fall asleep without avail. Draco froze as he heard the soft sound of footsteps coming down the hall. He strode silently to the double doors of his room, his fingertips touching the hawthorn wood of his wand. It was silent for an agonizing minute or so before he heard the sound of footsteps receding. Slipping outside, he allowed a small sigh of relief upon seeing Hermione, clad in a fluffy robe, walking down the hall. He paused. What was she doing up at this godforsaken hour? Some distance behind, he followed her cautiously until she wandered into the library. Draco gave a tired shake of his head. Figured. He found himself making his way to his study, almost tripping over Wilby who appeared in front of him with a hesitant look on his face.

"Bloody Merlin, what are you _doing_?" he hissed quietly. The house elf tugged nervously at its ears.

"Wilby is seeing that Miss Hermione and Master Draco is not being happy with one another. Wilby knows Miss is sleeping in the library but is wanting to know if Master is needing anything."

"Go to sleep," Draco waved him off tiredly.

"This is good advice for Master too," Wilby spoke, gone by the time Draco turned around to glare at him. With a wave of his wand, a fire blazed in the study's fireplace. He watched the flames lick hungrily at the wood and soon drifted off as well.

x-x-x

Draco watched his breath disappear into the winter air in foggy swirls. He stood on the back porch, deliberating whether or not he wanted to wake Hermione up. Never one for sleeping late, he'd been surprised that he made it until 9 but it was now nearing half past eleven. As he weighed the benefits and consequences of the action, he suddenly realized how ridiculous his whole thought process was. Draco Malfoy didn't worry about who was mad at him; people worried about who Draco Malfoy was mad at. Hardly comforted by such a thought, he headed upstairs nonetheless.

She'd never closed the library door and he slipped inside, finding her curled up on the chaise still fast asleep and a red book lying carelessly on the floor: _Literary Greats of the 19__th__ Century_. The instant cure for insomnia! he added silently. Why hadn't he thought of that? Charming the book to shelve itself, he hesitated a moment before gently shaking her shoulder.

"It's 11:30," he murmured before spinning on his heel and leaving the room.

x-x-x

_Five more minutes_, she muttered sleepily, burrowing under the blanket, _it's only eleven thir – IT'S ELEVEN THIRTY!_ Hermione's eyes flew open, blinking to adjust to the (late) morning sunlight filtering in through the large library window. She forgot where she was for a moment and was quickly reminded by the trailing ends of a black robe that soon disappeared out the library doors. She groaned quietly; suddenly the sun was far too bright.

x-x-x

After a warm cup of tea and taking as long as possible to get changed, Hermione gingerly picked up the letter from her desk and went off in search of the blonde wizard. _We can do this. It'll be just like times at Hogwarts. Even easier, in fact. Polite but removed. No big deal. I can do it._ So why did she feel like a condemned woman walking to the executioner? She found him in the family room, his forehead resting lightly on his hand, and sat down silently across from him. He looked up and gave an almost imperceptible nod, eyes slightly turbulent but unreadable and demeanor an uneasy calm. Hermione suspected that she appeared very much the same. She unfolded the first letter and placed it on the table between them; he did the same with the second letter, almost like a peace offering, a truce, she noted ironically. That which drove them apart bringing them back together. To a point.

He heard her clear her throat and saw her gesture to the letter he'd placed on the table.

"May I?" she asked quietly, almost timidly. Why did she sound timid? What did she think he would do? He shrugged.

"Be my guest." Hermione held a letter in each hand. The handwriting and tone were identical.

"Where did you get it? The letter, I mean. How was it sent?" he interrupted her analysis. She paused. His voice was perfectly neutral, merely questioning, trying to figure out the mystery behind the letters. Well, she could afford him the same treatment.

"It was floating in the fireplace. Your wards wouldn't let me get to it at first, but they dropped once I neared the fireplace. Then the letter fell to the ground."

"My name wasn't on it at first. Only yours: _Mr. Malfoy_. It was the strangest thing. Only when I read the name on the envelope, did my name start to appear, like it was being written," she added, almost as an afterthought.

Hermione bit her lip, continuing "it was like they knew. The first letter. Was it blank when you opened it?"

Draco exhaled slowly, "I would know if anyone had broken the wards. There's absolutely no way. But how the fuck did they know?" Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What are you–?" She picked up the letter and read the first few lines.

_Why should you listen to what a mere letter says? If not for the fact that you are currently leaning against your kitchen table wearing black robes pressed by your House Elf Wilby, nor the fact that the top button of your robes is undone, nor even the fact you can see the stables and part of the forest from where you are standing in your house…_

Hermione cringed inwardly; it was simply creepy. "So this was written as you read it as well?" He nodded.

"Animagus?" she suggested.

"Not possible. They'd have to be watching me and communicating to "X" while they were writing. It couldn't all happen at the same time."

"Maybe something like a webcam…" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"It's like a floo, sort of." Hermione carefully inspected the letter but found nothing more impressive than the parchment itself.

"A one-way view…like a looking glass…" Hermione trailed off uncertainly.

_A young Draco Malfoy, no more than six years of age, flipped through the pages of a large book, staring at the large color pictures with fascination. "The Mysterious World of the Muggles." He had convinced his mother to buy the book after enduring five hours of shopping in the most ritzy and posh boutiques to be found in England. _

"_Why in the name of Merlin would you want to read about Muggles?" she had asked, pronouncing the word as if she were tasting a new food that she didn't particularly like. Draco shrugged. In truth, the only exposure he'd had to Muggles at that point were a few words of explanation from his father: "about as respectable as a common house elf and not nearly as useful." The book with its large and colorful pictures filled with mysterious things had enthralled the little blonde wizard. Narcissa silently contemplated whether or not to purchase the book. Losing the battle against her son's wide eyes, brimming with anticipation, she bent down and looked him straight in the face. _

"_This must be our little secret, Draco, do you understand?" she whispered in a hushed tone. He nodded severely, trying to match his mother's solemn tone. He knew better than to ask about some things. Narcissa quickly charmed the cover of the book to read "Snakes and Spells: The Complete Encyclopedia Third Edition" to all except for her son. There. Lucius would approve._

_Draco was in the process of reading about the telly when his father appeared in the doorway of his room. Lucius had a Spying Charm set to monitor his son's bedroom and had seen him carry in and then read the large book all afternoon. _

"_Hello Draco." The little boy looked up from the book._

"_Hello Father."_

"_What is it that you're reading?"_

"_A book I picked out, um," he suddenly remembered that it was a secret, "from the library shelves." _

"_Oh?" Lucius feigned interest, "may I see?" Draco nodded and closed the book, handing it to him. Upon first inspection, Lucius thought he may have been mistaken. "Snakes and Spells" was indeed a book they had in the Manor library. The second he opened the book, he knew he had been right. Oh, Narcissa. The entire thing was filled with worthless Muggle information. After a few pages, he set the book down roughly, as if extended contact with it would result in the contraction of some horrid disease. He looked at Draco intently. _

"_When did you get this book, Draco?" The little wizard answered in the surest voice he could muster._

"_This afternoon. When Mother and I returned from shopping."_

"_And what's the title of it?" Draco swallowed nervously. How could he lie when it was clearly printed on the front? He had no idea how his mother had changed the appearance of the book. _

"_The Mysterious World," he answered, hoping that luck was on his side. Lucius waved his wand over the book with a quick "finite incantatem." _

"_The Mysterious World of the Muggles," he read, almost thoughtfully, had it not been for the disdainful curl of his lips that gave away his true feelings. He then proceeded to set the book on fire. _

"_Dear Draco, when will you learn that you must never lie to your father?" Draco looked down at the burning book and didn't answer. _

"_Look at me," Lucius ordered, "you are to find a cell in the dungeons that you will scrub clean by hand. The _Muggle_ way, since it seems to fascinate you so. You will then spend the next three days in that cell: two of the three days on prisoner rations. Am I clear?" _

"_Yes, Father." By the time Draco was seven, he knew there was some way his father was watching him. There was simply no way that he just happened to know every single time Draco had done something he'd disapprove of. With a bit of cautious snooping, he found out how. _

"A Spying Charm," he murmured.

"A what? I've never heard of that."

"Is that to mean that it can't exist?" he mocked lightly, testing the waters. She responded with narrowed eyes but a hesitant curve of her lips that disappeared as soon as it came. Why did she allow him to get to her so easily? _You're angry with him. Furious, actually. Focus on the task at hand! _she scolded herself silently. He continued.

"Anyways, you wouldn't have heard of it. It can be performed on an object and the caster, no matter where they are, can view things from the object's perspective. The strength of the charm, unsurprisingly, depends on the strength of the witch or wizard that cast it."

"So he was able to see everything he could… because he cast it on the letter. And you held it as you read it. Were you in the kitchen?"

He nodded, "it was delivered by a St. Mungo's owl through the window."

"That explains it, then. They're not here and they may not even know where we are, exactly," she sighed with relief and heard him exhale deeply. But it wasn't enough to celebrate.

She pointed at the two different signatures on each of the letters.

"Is it the same person?"

"For some reason, I think it is, but one "x" then two…?"

"Three strikes and you're…out," Hermione finished, eyes lighting up for a moment, glad to have one more answer and one less question. Draco sighed.

"Another Muggle saying, I presume?" She ignored the little jab.

"Read the letter. _I will give you and Malfoy... three days to keep this little game nice and simple, consequence-free._ One last chance. In a Muggle game called baseball, you have three chances to essentially hit a ball with a stick," Hermione ignored his cynical look and continued.

"We've been given two already, in each of these letters. I'd bet double, triple my life savings that if we don't stop by the time the third letter comes – the day after tomorrow – then we face the these so-called consequences." Their eyes met and for the first time that morning, Hermione could decipher the look in his eyes. "X" would have to try a great deal harder to be a truly threatening villain. Still, a large part of Hermione hardly wanted to find out what he had planned.

"So we wait for the next one?" he spoke, more statement than question.

"So we wait."

x-x-x

**I hope it all makes sense so far; lemme know if anything is confusing.  
Please review!!  
**

**--Jadyn  
**


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